The Philosopher's Very Sorcery Stone
by jamc91
Summary: AU. In which Malfoy finds out about government conspiracies, Snape almost takes points from Slytherin, and most notably of all, Harry breaks up with Draco. There's a lot of angst there, yes, I know. Contains no slash.
1. Harry Gets Sorted into Slytherin

**Chapter One: Harry Gets Sorted into Slytherin**

(A/N: Yes, I know, it's another 'Harry gets put in Slytherin' fic. But I'm going to try it anyway. It's probably going to suck, but still.)

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. I'm only going to type it this once. This disclaimer serves for the entire story which I'm probably never going to finish, just like the rest of my stories.**

* * *

'_Hullo,' said the boy, 'Hogwarts too?'_

'_Yes,' said Harry._

'_My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands,' said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. 'Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. Have _you_ got your own broom?'_

'_No,' said Harry._

'Oh.'

There was silence in the shop.

'Know what house you'll be in yet?' the boy asked. He seemed to be trying to fill the silence.

'No,' Harry said again.

'_Well, no one really knows until they actually get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?'_

'_Mmm,' said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting._

'I say, look at that man!' said the boy suddenly, nodding at the front window. Hagrid was standing there, holding two large ice-creams and grinning at Harry.

'That's Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He works at Hogwarts.'

'Oh,' said the boy. 'I've heard of him. Gamekeeper, right?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

The boy seemed to find something amusing. Harry didn't ask him.

'Why is he with you?' asked the boy. 'Where are your parents?'

'They're dead,' said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with anyone.

'Oh, sorry,' said the boy.

There was another silence as Madam Malkin finished with Harry's robe and said, 'That's you done, my dear,' and Harry hopped off the footstool.

'Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,' said the drawling boy.

Harry didn't think much of the boy as he ate the ice-cream that Hagrid had bought him, but he did remember something the boy had said.

'Hagrid, what's Hufflepuff and Slytherin?'

_'School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but-'_

_'I bet I'm in Hufflepuff,' said Harry gloomily._

_'Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,' said Hagrid darkly. 'There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.'_

_'Vol - sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?'_

_'Years an' years ago,' said Hagrid._

Harry pondered this for a while, then said, 'You mean, everyone who was in Slytherin supported You-Know-Who?'

'Yep,' said Hagrid. 'At least, the ones I've heard of.'

* * *

_Three boys entered and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley._

'_Is it true?' he said. 'They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?'_

'_Yes,' said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and extremely mean. Standing either side of the pale boy they looked like bodyguards._

'_Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle,' said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. 'And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.'_

Harry was strongly reminded of the James Bond 007 movies Uncle Vernon enjoyed watching so much.

Draco Malfoy was looking at Ron with some disdain, a slight sneer on his features. He turned back to Harry and said, 'You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, Potter. I can help you there, steer you in the right direction.'

He held out his hand to shake Harry's.

Harry stared at it, then at Draco Malfoy's face, then at Ron, who was glaring at Malfoy venomously.

Well, he seemed sincere…not necessarily _nice_, no, but he did seem to want to help him. And Harry felt he needed all the help he could get.

Harry grasped Draco Malfoy's hand in his own and shook it.

Harry let go of Draco's hand and remembered Ron, who was sitting next to him with an expression that could be called horror on his face. 'Oh, I haven't introduced you, have I?' said Harry. 'Draco, this is Ron Weasley.'

'I do know who he is,' said Draco slowly.

Ron seemed to come out of his stupor. 'Harry!' he cried. 'You don't want to go making friends with _him_!'

Harry looked at him curiously. 'Why not?'

Ron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and looked at Draco pointedly. Draco didn't move.

'Malfoy, would you _please_ excuse us?' Ron asked, with some difficulty, and through gritted teeth.

'Why?' said Draco, smirking.

'I'd like to speak with Harry _alone_, if you don't mind,' said Ron.

'I don't mind,' said Draco. He appeared to be enjoying himself.

Ron glared at him, then grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the compartment, out of Draco's earshot.

'Listen, Harry,' said Ron. 'You really don't want to become friends with Malfoy. He's – not nice.'

'But he seemed all right to me,' said Harry, confused. 'Why do you hate him so much?'

Ron sighed and released Harry's arm. 'His family was some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared,' he said darkly. 'Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it, and nor do I. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark side.'

'You mean they were in league with Voldemort?' Harry asked, and Ron flinched. 'Sorry.'

Ron nodded. 'Yes.'

'He didn't seem all so bad, though.'

'He was probably just trying to get onto your good side, maybe trick you into thinking he was good,' Ron said.

Harry thought this over.

'Well, maybe you shouldn't judge people by first appearances,' he said finally. 'I'll try to decide for myself, okay?'

Ron didn't look very pleased about this, but he sighed again and nodded. 'But try not to get yourself into trouble, Harry.'

'I won't,' Harry assured him. 'Don't worry about me.'

They returned to the compartment where Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were now occupying three of the seats. Draco was reading the Chocolate Frog card of Dumbledore.

'Oh, you're back,' he said carelessly, noticing them standing in the doorway. 'Have a seat.'

Ron gritted his teeth. Harry shrugged and sat down across from Draco.

They heard footsteps outside and the compartment door opened.

'Oh, hello,' said Hermione. 'I don't think we've met; I'm Hermione Granger, who are you?'

Draco looked her up and down, sizing her up. 'Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,' he finally said.

Hermione seemed to be trying not to giggle.

'Well, hello, Draco Malfoy,' she said, when she had controlled herself. She looked at Crabbe and Goyle. 'And you are...?'

'They're Crabbe and Goyle,' said Draco quickly.

'Hello, Crabbe, hello, Goyle,' she said pleasantly.

'Can we help you with something?' said Ron.

'You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there,' said Hermione.

'Thank you,' said Ron, scowling at her. 'Would you mind leaving so we can change, then?'

'All right – I only came in here because people are behaving very childishly outside, racing up and down the corridors,' said Hermione, sniffing. 'And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?'

Ron glared at her back as she walked out.

'Honestly,' he muttered, and a whole lot of other things under his breath as well.

Draco looked amused, but said nothing.

They took off their jackets and pulled on their black school robes. A voice echoed throughout the train: 'We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.'

They joined the crowd in the corridor and stepped out onto the dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air, and he noticed a light hovering above the heads of the students. He heard a familiar voice call out: 'Firs'-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, Harry?'

Harry grinned at him and nodded.

'C'mon, follow me – any more firs-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs-years follow me!'

Harry almost fell on the steep, narrow path. They followed Hagrid down the lane quietly.

'Yeh'll get yer firs' sigh o' Hogwarts in a sec,' Hagrid called over his shoulder, 'jus' round this bend here.'

There was a loud 'Ooh!' from most of the first-years. Harry admired the great castle perched on top of the high mountain on the other side of a vast lake, with its many turrets and towers.

'No more'n four to a boat!' Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron got into a boat and looked at Draco, who glanced at Crabbe and Goyle and shrugged.

'See you later, then,' said Harry. Draco turned and was followed into a boat by Crabbe and Goyle.

Neville and Hermione got into their boat. Hermione looked at Ron, who looked back, and they both sniffed haughtily and turned away.

'Everyone in?' Hagrid called, looking around. 'All righ' then – FORWARD!'

They glided over the lake, and a short time later, reached a sort of underground harbour, and everyone clambered out onto rocks and pebbles very carefully.

'Oy, you there!' Hagrid called to Neville. 'Is this your toad?'

'Trevor!' Neville cried, taking his toad and cradling it in his arms.

They climbed up a passageway in the rock, following Hagrid's lamp, coming out onto damp grass in the shadow of the giant castle.

They walked up stone steps and crowded around the rather ostentatious oak double doors.

'Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?'

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the door. It swung open at once, as if someone had been inside waiting for them. Which there was.

'The firs-years, Professor McGonagall,' said Hagrid.

'Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.'

She pulled the door wide and they all followed Professor McGonagall into the Entrance Hall.

(A/N: I'll just skip this part. You've all read it anyway. Not that you haven't read that bit up there, but whatever. On to Draco's sorting, then.)

When Draco's name was called, he stepped forward confidently and got his wish at once: the hat had just touched his head when it yelled out, 'SLYTHERIN!'

He went to join Crabbe and Goyle, looking rather pleased with himself.

Harry was slightly disappointed. After all he'd heard of Slytherin…but Draco seemed nice enough…even if Ron didn't think so…

'Potter, Harry!'

Harry was jolted out of his reverie and stepped forward. He could hear people whispering to their friends all over the Hall: '_Potter_, did she say?' '_The_ Harry Potter?'

Harry tried not to roll his eyes and the hat dropped over his eyes, so he couldn't see people craning their necks to get a good look at him.

'Hmm,' said a voice in his ear, and Harry jumped. 'Difficult Very difficult…not a bad mind, I see…yes, plenty of courage as well. There's definitely talent here…and a thirst to prove yourself, eh? That's interesting…so where shall I put you?'

Harry said nothing.

'Courage stands out, you've got quite a lot of it…but more _ambition_…hmm…Gryffindor _would_ suit you, but you could be even greater in SLYTHERIN!'

* * *

(A/N: Again, I DO know that this is NOT an original story, it's like one of those over-used clichés, but I am writing this anyway. I thought of this when I was rereading the Sorting Hat's song in PS.

Anyway, please **review**!)


	2. That Night, A Boring Chapter

**Chapter Two - That Night (A Boring Chapter)**

(A/N: Bet you've been waiting excitedly for this chapter, eh?

Yeah, right.)

* * *

_**Last time…**_

'_Courage stands out, you've got quite a lot of it…but more ambition…hmm…Gryffindor would suit you, but you could be even greater in SLYTHERIN!'_

* * *

The Great Hall was suddenly very silent. 

'_Slytherin_?' someone hissed angrily – probably Ron, he thought.

He took off the hat and walked shakily to the Slytherin table, feeling every single eye on him. He sat down next to Draco.

Professor McGonagall's voice broke the silence.

'Turpin, Lisa!'

Harry briefly wondered what happened to the 'Q's, 'R's, and 'S's. Such as 'Smith' or' Rodriguez' or…'Quack'?

Er…yeah.

Lisa Turpin stepped forward, but the Hall remained silent and staring at Harry. Then the usual buzz of chatter broke out, but Harry knew it was all about him.

Lisa Turpin was sorted into Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. Harry watched avidly, trying to ignore the eyes on him as the hat dropped over Ron's eyes.

'GRYFFINDOR!' the hat shouted. Harry sighed disappointedly that Ron wasn't in the same house he was, but Ron probably wouldn't want to be in Slytherin anyway.

Ron collapsed into a chair at the Gryffindor table and looked at Harry, who smiled nervously at him. Ron looked down at his empty plate and the smile slid off Harry's face. He could see Percy congratulating him and darting nervous glances over to Harry at the same time as 'Zabini, Blaise' was made a Slytherin and slid into a seat next to Draco.

'Never thought I'd see the day,' said Blaise.

Harry looked at him. 'What?'

'Well, you didn't think you'd be sorted into Slytherin, did you?' Blaise said.

'Well…no,' said Harry.

'I thought so.

'What have you heard about Slytherin so far, Potter?'

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell him about that. Luckily, he was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore stood up.

'Welcome! Welcome to another new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our magnificent feast, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

'Thank you!'

Dumbledore sat down. Harry stared.

'Is he – a bit mad?' he asked Draco uncertainly.

Draco snorted. 'That's an understatement.'

Harry nodded very slowly, not really understanding, and his mouth fell open, noticing the piles of food on the dishes in front of him.

He shook himself and took a bit of everything except the mint humbugs and began to eat.

'Hungry, aren't you?' commented Draco, looking at his full plate.

Harry nodded, not stopping.

He paused for breath when he was a quarter of the way through and caught Ron's eye from the Gryffindor table. As soon as eye contact was made, Ron looked away.

Harry sighed. If Ron was going to be like this, then so be it. He couldn't force him to be his friend, after all. He looked up at the High Table where the teachers were sitting and the first thing he noticed was Professor Quirrell and his really stupid turban thingy. He was talking to another teacher, who had greasy hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The hooked-nosed teacher looked at him – and he felt a jolt of pain in his scar.

'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his forehead.

'What?' said Draco sharply, looking at him.

'Uh – nothing, nothing…'

Draco looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing.

'Er – Draco, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' Harry asked. He had the strong suspicion that the professor didn't like him.

Draco looked up at the High Table. 'Professor Snape,' he said shortly. 'Teaches Potions. Head of Slytherin House,' and he resumed eating.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the last of the desserts disappeared and Professor Dumbledore stood up again.

'Before we retire to bed, I have a few start-of-year announcements I'd like to make.

'First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would be wise to remember that as well.'

Harry could've sworn he glanced at the Weasley twins as he said that.

'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

'Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'

Harry laughed at this, but his laughter died away as he noticed few others were laughing.

'He – he's not serious?' he muttered to Draco.

Draco shrugged.

'Now, before we retire, let us sing the school song!' Dumbledore cried merrily. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Snape wasn't even bothering with the happy expression.

(A/N: Blah blah blah, sing the school song, blah blah blah, you've read it all before.)

'_Ah, music,' said Dumbledore, wiping a tear from his eye. 'A magic beyond all that we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'_

The Slytherin first-years followed a prefect down, down, down to the dark, cold dungeons. Harry shivered involuntarily.

They stopped by a completely blank stone wall.

'_Calx pur sang astrum_,' said the prefect, and a stone door that Harry hadn't noticed before slid open. They walked through it.

The common room's walls and ceiling were made of stone and round lamps with a slight greenish tint to them were hanging from the ceiling. There was already a fire blazing under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, and the chairs also seemed to be carved out of stone.

Harry thought it looked very…well, _cold_. It wasn't very welcoming, that was for sure.

The prefect directed the girls up one narrow, twisting stone staircase and the boys up another – well, at least now Harry knew why they'd walked down so far.

Harry walked behind Draco and Blaise up the stairs and found their dormitory. There were five four-posters, thankfully not carved out of stone, from which hung dark green velvet curtains. Their trunks were already there.

They didn't have the energy to talk much. They pulled on their pyjamas and climbed into bed. Harry fell asleep almost immediately.

Perhaps it was all the food he'd eaten, because he had a very odd dream. He dreamt that he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once – which didn't make sense, he was already in Slytherin, wasn't he? – because it was his destiny. He tried to pull it off, but it grew tighter and tighter on his head, giving him THE worst headache – then he saw Draco, laughing at him – why? – then he became Professor Snape, whose laugh became high and cold – well, that made sense, sort of – there was a bright flash of green light and Harry woke up, sweating and shaking.

He fell asleep again, and when he woke up again the next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all.

* * *

(A/N: I just couldn't make up my mind about the password…should I use 'pur sang', which means 'pure blood' in French, 'astrum', which means 'star' in Latin, or 'calx', which means 'stone' in Latin? 

So I thought, what the heck, why not use all three.

Please **review**!)


	3. First Week of Lessons

**Chapter Three – First Week of Lessons**

(A/N: Bored. So very, very bored. For some reason, I'm writing this WHILE my Internet connection is WORKING (for once).

So…yeah. Third chapter, then…)

* * *

_**Last time...**_

_Perhaps it was all the food he'd eaten, because he had a very odd dream. He dreamt that he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once – which didn't make sense, he was already in Slytherin, wasn't he? – because it was his destiny. He tried to pull it off, but it grew tighter and tighter on his head, giving him THE worst headache – then he saw Draco, laughing at him – why? – then he became Professor Snape, whose laugh became high and cold – well, that made sense, sort of – there was a bright flash of green light and Harry woke up, sweating and shaking._

_He fell asleep again, and when he woke up again the next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all._

* * *

'_There, look.'_

'_Where?'_

'In between those two with the blond and black hair.'

'_Wearing the glasses?'_

'_Did you see his face?'_

'_Did you see his scar?'_

For some reason, Draco scowled even harder than he already was at the last one.

Harry wasn't used to everyone whispering about and staring at him, and was rather glad Draco's father had taken him on a trip around the school several times before, because, as Draco said, 'It's just not done for a Malfoy to get lost.'

'What, get lost as in get lost, or get lost as in…get lost?'

Draco stared at him.

'Uh…I mean as in someone telling you to get lost or actually getting lost?'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Both.'

'Oh.'

As Harry learned in the Slytherin common room that morning, although he had already accepted Draco's offer of friendship, it would take a while for the other Slytherins to get used to him, not that he hadn't noticed the night before. He kept telling himself, _Just try to ignore them, try to ignore the glares, try to ignore that they look like they hate you…_

Now he was thinking alone the same lines for his current predicament, except not 'hate you' but more like 'idolise you' and more 'stare' than 'glare'.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays they walked down (or up, as the case might be) to the greenhouses for Herbology. Harry noticed that Draco had a little difficulty in this class, though he tried not to show it, so he didn't mention it.

In their first Charms class, Professor Flitwick took the register, got to Harry's name, gave an excited squeak, and fell off his pile of books. Harry noticed some people were scowling in an annoyed fashion.

Transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. She had the gift of silencing a class with just one look. Sometimes it took less than that, with the other houses. Harry had the strong impression the other Slytherins didn't like her very much. He wondered why.

Harry was being unusually observant. Of course, he had a right to be, since he'd almost fallen through a trick stair in the morning.

Slytherins had that class right after the Gryffindors, and he noticed Hermione Granger looking very proud of herself as the Gryffindors walked out. Ron didn't even look his way.

After giving them a traditional start-of-year speech and a really long lecture, in which everyone took notes, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match and told them to start trying to turn them into needles.

Harry read and reread his notes over and over again, but he couldn't make any difference to his match. By the end of the lesson, his match was still a match. No one else had either, though, Harry noted. Professor McGonagall was somewhat displeased.

'Defence is stupid,' Draco announced after they'd had their first class. 'Quirrell's an idiot.'

Harry looked around nervously. 'Uh, maybe you shouldn't say that so loud.'

Blaise snorted. 'Think that bothers him?'

Blaise had taken to hanging around them. He seemed to know quite a lot about Draco, and Harry discovered that their fathers were 'acquaintances', as Blaise put it, and 'I used to go over to Draco's ma…house a lot'. Crabbe and Goyle were usually nowhere to be seen now. Draco had told them to go away when he saw that Harry was a bit unnerved by them. Harry thought this was very nice of him. It was a bit out of character.

There was also another boy in their dorm, besides Crabbe and Goyle, Theodore Nott, but he seemed a bit of a loner, and responded with short answers when Harry tried to be friendly. They didn't talk to him much.

At the end of his first day, Harry was a little put out that he seemed to be a bit behind everyone else in general knowledge of the wizarding world. Of course, in classes, everyone seemed to be about the same skill level as he was, except those who sometimes displayed a certain aptitude for a particular subject.

On Friday, the last day of the school week, Harry looked at his schedule to discover that they had Double Potions with the Gryffindors first.

_Great. Just…great_, he thought. He knew about the strong rivalry between Slytherins and Gryffindors. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't noticed Ron's extremely obvious hatred for Slytherins, and the look Draco had given Ron on the train.

Draco and Blaise were quite happy about Potions, though. When Harry asked them why, Blaise just said, 'You'll see,' with a sort of evil smirk on his face, and Harry had slowly backed away.

At breakfast, Harry ate ravenously…as usual. When the post arrived, Harry just looked up uninterestedly and continued eating breakfast. On the first day it had given him _such_ a shock, and Blaise and Draco had laughed uproariously at his reaction.

Draco and Blaise both subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_. Back at the Dursleys, Harry didn't take much interest in the news, not that he'd ever had a chance to. But when he saw that the pictures in the paper were moving, he'd immediately written for a subscription, after browsing that day's paper first, of course.

Hedwig dropped two items, which was a bit of a surprise. One was a note from Hagrid, apparently, and the other was the _Daily Prophet_. Harry let her have a bit of his bacon before she flew off back to the owlery. He scanned through the pages of the _Prophet_ first, mostly still gazing at the moving pictures, when he caught sight of a small article on the third page:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely  
__believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown.  
__Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault  
__that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.  
_'_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if  
__you know what's good for you,' said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this  
__afternoon._

'31 July…' Harry muttered to himself. Then it hit him and he turned to Draco. 'The Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday!'

Draco looked uninterested. 'So?'

Harry had opened his mouth to explain but remembered that he wasn't supposed to mention this to anyone, so he shut it again. 'Nothing,' he said.

Draco gave him an odd look.

Next, he read the note from Hagrid, with some difficulty:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come for a cup of tea with me round about three? I want to hear about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

When they finished their breakfast, they started down back to the dungeons again. Harry reflected that if they could have breakfast in the common room, they could just go straight to Potions instead of going up to the Great Hall and back down again.

Harry had got used to the cold by now. They chose desks near the front of the classroom and sat down.

When the entire class had assembled and was chatting quietly, Professor Snape walked in and the class fell silent at once. Snape sort of radiated an aura of strictness.

Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by taking the register. Professor Snape, unlike Professor Flitwick, did not pause at Harry's name. He did, however, seem to say Harry's name with a certain tone of dislike. He went through the register calmly and smoothly and when done, set it down on his desk.

Then he began his speech.

'…if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach,' he finished a while later.

Harry felt this comment was more directed at the Gryffindors. He looked over to their side of the classroom and found Ron glaring at Snape with intense dislike. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving she wasn't a dunderhead.

Snape put them into pairs. Harry was with Draco, and Blaise was working with Theodore Nott. Their assignment was to make a simple potion to cure boils. Harry wasn't paying much attention when he'd said the name of it, and he was afraid to ask him.

He criticised almost everyone except Draco, whom he seemed to like, and who lapped up the praise with a smug smirk on his face. The Slytherins smirked a lot. Harry didn't think he would do that too much. It made him look…odd. Sort of wrong on his face.

However, he did not even speak to Harry, look at him, or even acknowledge his presence, even when he was praising Draco.

He was taking points from Gryffindor left and right, especially Neville, who seemed to be absolutely _terrified_ of Snape. However, when he looked down at Hermione and her partner's potion, he seemed to have nothing to say. He sneered and stalked away to take more points from Gryffindor elsewhere.

By the end of the lesson, Gryffindor had lost five points and Slytherin had gained five, because of the 'perfect way Malfoy here has stewed his horned slugs'.

Snape completely ignored Harry when he took their bottled potion up to his desk.

They left the class, Draco's ego having been inflated just a little more, they went back to their dorm and put away their things, Harry preparing a quill, ink bottle, Transfiguration textbook, and a scroll of parchment to do his Transfiguration homework later.

Harry informed Draco and Blaise that he was going down to Hagrid's and asked if they wanted to come with him. They both declined, and he was halfway out the door when Draco said, 'Wait.'

Harry turned. 'What?'

'You remember how I told you that you wouldn't want to go making friends with the wrong sort?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Well, Hagrid is definitely the wrong sort.'

Harry frowned. 'How?'

Draco looked at him. 'He's the _gamekeeper_,' he said as if it was obvious.

'So?'

Draco sighed. 'You have a lot to learn, Potter.'

In their many conversations, Draco and Blaise rarely called him by name, surname or otherwise.

'Uh, you can call me Harry,' said Harry.

Draco looked at him again and shrugged. 'Doesn't feel right.'

'Oooookay…' Harry nodded very slowly, wondering why.

'Don't worry,' said Blaise from his bed, where he was reading. 'He's like that. I'll call you Harry, if you like.'

'I don't really mind,' said Harry.

Draco cut off their conversation. 'Potter.'

'Oh, sorry. What were you saying?'

Blaise rolled his eyes at being interrupted, but went back to his reading.

'Do you know what a gamekeeper _is_?'

Harry shrugged. 'Not really, and I don't particularly care.' Anyone else who had said this to Draco, but well, he was still alive, wasn't he?

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Gamekeeper: noun. One who is employed to protect and maintain game birds and animals, especially on an estate or a game preserve; a person employed to take care of game and wildlife.'

Harry stared. 'Did you memorise the dictionary, Draco?'

Blaise chuckled. 'Not to mention the thesaurus as well.'

Draco scowled at him, but with a slight hint of amusement.

'So what if he's a gamekeeper?' Harry asked.

Now it was Draco's turn to stare. 'You don't _get_ it, Potter?' he asked in disbelief.

Harry shrugged.

Draco clapped a hand to his forehead. 'You are hopeless.'

Harry frowned at him.

'No no, Harry,' said Blaise. 'You supposed to _scowl_. You're a Slytherin, remember?'

Harry rolled his eyes.

'Huh…well, not a scowl, not a smirk either, but it'll do,' said Blaise, grinning.

'Slytherin! No grinning!' Harry reminded him, grinning as well. He couldn't help it. Blaise was an unusually cheerful Slytherin, from what he'd heard about the house from Hagrid.

'Hypocrite.'

Draco cleared his throat loudly, glaring at Blaise.

'Potter. Hagger, or whatever his name is, is a gamekeeper. Gamekeepers are _below our station_. Got it?'

'Hagrid,' Harry corrected him. 'And are you really that much of a snob, Draco, to not talk to someone just because they're "below your station"?' Harry said, making the quote marks with his fingers.

Draco glared at him. 'I am not a snob. It is _not done_, Potter, okay?'

Harry glared back. 'I don't care. I'm going down to see him. Hagrid is my _friend_, Draco, okay?' he said, mimicking him.

Draco glared at him even more angrily. 'Don't talk to me like that – you aren't even pure-blooded. And _I_ was the one _kind_ enough to offer you help, remember? Even though you are also _below my station_? Don't think that just because I was nice to you once means that you can be cheeky.'

Harry had had enough. 'Draco, you deserve this.' He drew back his fist and punched the boy.

Draco stumbled back, clutching his jaw and glaring at him venomously, bleeding a bit.

'I'm not sorry,' said Harry furiously, before stalking out and heading down to Hagrid's hut.

Blaise knew better than to comment. He quietly drew his curtains, but peeked out at him, because he was curious.

Draco was still standing there holding his jaw in place, still glaring at the spot where Harry had stood, still bleeding.

'Draco?' Blaise said timidly. It wasn't often he used this tone of voice. He was a Slytherin after all, and he had _some_ pride.

Draco seemed to wake himself. 'What?' he snarled, whipping around to glare at Blaise.

'Uh…you might want to get that looked at,' said Blaise helpfully.

Draco glared at him some more, then turned around and stormed off to the hospital wing.


	4. Un Chapitre Ennuyeux

**Chapter Four – Un Chapitre Ennuyeux**

(A/N: I am turning out chapters at a phenomenal rate (for me, anyway).

Woah.

Ooh, the title is French. Yay. I'm not sure if 'chapitre' is _masculin_ or _feminin_. And it means 'A Boring Chapter', in case anyone's wondering. :)

I don't even know WHY I'm using French. I just gave a French oral presentation this afternoon, and by all means, I should be hating French and pointedly ignoring it. Oh well.

And it was just after I uploaded this and was checking for mistakes that I noticed Blaise's comment again. This chapter is kind of French-themed, ain't it?

Also, Hagrid's accent is really hard to do.)

* * *

_**Last time…**_

_Draco was still standing there holding his jaw in place, still glaring at the spot where Harry had stood, still bleeding._

'_Draco?' Blaise said timidly. It wasn't often he used this tone of voice. He was a Slytherin after all, and he had some pride._

_Draco seemed to wake himself. 'What?' he snarled, whipping around to glare at Blaise._

'_Uh…you might want to get that looked at,' said Blaise helpfully._

_Draco glared at him some more, then turned around and stormed off to the hospital wing._

* * *

Harry angrily half-ran to Hagrid's hut. How dare he insult Hagrid like that! How dare he insult _Harry_ like that! He had no right to do that! And here he thought Draco was his friend! 

Well, if Draco thought he was _below his station_, then Harry certainly wasn't going to be friends with _him_.

Harry reached Hagrid's wooden hut and knocked on the door.

Hagrid pulled it open. 'C'min,' he said, and Harry stepped in. Hagrid closed the door behind him.

'Hi, Hagrid,' Harry said, as he sat down.

'So, how was yer firs' day at school, Harry?'

Harry told Hagrid all about his first week back. 'And I met this boy on the train, Ron Weasley, he seemed really nice at first, but then I got sorted into Slytherin, and –'

Hagrid looked taken aback. 'Yer really in Slytherin?'

Harry stared at him. 'Hadn't you heard?'

'Well, yeah, I heard, but I di'nt believe a word o' it,' said Hagrid, still looking a little shocked.

'You're not angry, are you?' Harry asked anxiously.

'Blimey…Slytherin, Harry…'

'Hagrid?'

'Wha'?' Hagrid jolted out of his thoughts. 'Sorry, Harry, this is a bit much fer me ter take…'

'Hagrid, I need to know…are you angry?'

'O' – o'course not, Harry…' Hagrid smiled at him, but it looked a little strained.

Harry chose not to notice this. 'Thanks, Hagrid.'

'Yer welcome…'

'Anyway, Hagrid, I met this boy, Ron Weasley, on the train, and he was really nice, but now that I'm in Slytherin, he seems to be avoiding me…'

'Ah, don' worry, Harry,' said Hagrid, waving a hand, looking relieved for something else to concentrate on. 'He'll come 'round soon.

'Ah, listen Harry, I got somethin' ter do, so…'

'Oh, sorry,' said Harry, standing up quickly. 'Thanks, Hagrid. You were a lot of help.'

'Don' worry abou' it,' said Hagrid. 'It'll work itself out, just yeh wait.'

Harry grinned at him and waved as he walked out the door.

Harry returned to his dorm. Blaise was still there, but he had fallen asleep. Harry went over to his desk, sat down, and began his Transfiguration homework.

Harry must have scraped his chair against the floor or something, because Blaise suddenly awoke with a start. 'Don't let the bunnies get me!'

Harry looked at him amusedly. 'Bunnies?'

'What?'

'Something about not letting the bunnies get you?'

'Oh…yeah,' said Blaise. 'That.' His expression grew serious. 'Harry, you know Draco –'

'Don't talk to me about him,' Harry interrupted furiously. 'You heard what he said. He insulted my friend, and he told me I was _below his station_. I can't forgive that easily, you know.'

Blaise looked disappointed. 'I guess I can understand that…' Then he suddenly broke into a grin. 'You've got a _great_ right hook, you know.'

Harry laughed. 'Thanks.'

There was a pause.

'Uh…where is Draco, anyway?'

'I thought you said you didn't want to talk about him,' said Blaise amusedly.

'I don't,' Harry shrugged. 'I just want to talk TO him.'

'Ahh…don't you mean 'yell' at him?'

'Okay, you caught me,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'I just want to yell at him and break his nose this time.'

'Ouch.' Blaise grinned. 'You might not want to do that. Madame Pomfrey would kill you.'

'Who?'

'She's the nurse in the hospital wing. I like to call her the_infirmière_.'

'Sounds French. Why?'

Blaise shrugged. 'It just sounds better, don't you think? Listen: _infirmière_. Doesn't it sound _great_?'

Harry rolled his eyes again. They were starting to hurt though, from all this eye-rolling. Mostly at the nonsensical things Blaise sometimes said. Harry decided to try and stop.

'Seriously though, you shouldn't talk to him yet. Even with his broken jaw, he's still strong enough and definitely angry enough to hurt you. A lot,' Blaise added. 'The only reason you're still alive is because he was probably too shocked about you hitting him. I mean _really_, like someone would ever _dare_ to hit a _Malfoy_?'

'Is there anyway to deflate that ego of his?'

Blaise shook his head, smiling. 'No. He's too far gone.'

Harry sighed dramatically. 'How…tragic.'

'I _know_!'

Harry struggled not to roll his eyes. He needed some eye drops…he might as well go to the hospital wing, then.

'Listen, I'm going to the hospital wing to get some eye drops…my eyes really hurt from all this eye-rolling.'

Blaise shook his head sadly and sighed, not really listening all that much. 'You need to learn the art of rolling your eyes _all the time_ without causing pain from overuse, Harry.'

'Is there even such a thing?'

Blaise shrugged. 'Who knows? I've never tried it.'

Harry stared at him.

'What?'

'Okay, I'm going now.'

'Bye,' said Blaise, turning back to his book and trying to find his page.

Harry shut the door.

'Aha! Found it!' Blaise said triumphantly, flipping to page 241. He began reading.

Suddenly he realised something. 'Did he say he was going to the hospital wing?' he said in alarm. 'Oh…shoot.' Blaise thought to himself, _Note to self: learn to swear. Adds more drama._

He flung down his book and set off at a mad dash after Harry.

Harry walked along in the hall, eyes smarting. It was then that he realised that he had no idea where the hospital wing even was. He sighed and stopped, aiming to turn around and get Blaise to tell or show him where it was.

He looked to his right for no particular reason and saw a white door. The white door had a golden plaque on it. The white door which had a golden plaque on it said: 'Hospital Wing'. _That was lucky_, Harry thought, not even suspecting that this was the only way that he could have found the hospital wing without Blaise or Draco's help, which would sort of spoil the upcoming scene's drama, so the author had him find himself standing _right next to it_ by what he thought was pure luck.

He turned the golden doorknob and swung the white door open.

'Hello?' he called, stepping in. 'Is anyone here? Madame Pomfrey?'

'Yes?' said a woman he presumed to be Madame Pomfrey, poking her head out from behind a blue curtain. 'Can I help you?'

'Yeah…uh, I was just wondering if I could get some eye drops…my eyes are starting to kind of hurt a little…'

'Well,' said Madame Pomfrey importantly, coming out from behind the curtains, 'what kind of pain is it? Do you know what caused it?'

'Uh…it doesn't really hurt THAT much, just, you know, it's starting to get kind of annoying…and I think it's because I've been, er, rolling my eyes too much.'

'Ah…well, that's perfectly normal, dear,' said Madame Pomfrey. Harry raised an eyebrow at being called 'dear', but she didn't seem to notice. 'Of course I have eye drops…sit down while I go and get them.' She bustled off.

Harry sat down in one of the chairs by the door and waited, looking around. The hospital wing was very…white. Kind of like the door.

'Can't take a little pain, eh, Potter?' said a mocking voice from behind the curtains. Harry jumped.

'What?'

'Are you deaf, Potter?' the voice had turned patronising.

'Draco?' Harry asked.

'Don't call me that,' said the voice sharply. 'Only my friends are allowed to call me that, and you are certainly no friend of mine, _half-blood_.'

Harry had shot to his feet. 'Don't call me that!' He didn't quite understand what the word meant, but the way Draco said it, it was sure to be nothing good.

Draco was cut off by Madame Pomfrey coming back, holding a small bottle of eye drops in her hand. 'Please don't antagonise my patients, dear, and here are your eye drops. Now, you have to tilt your head back, and drop precisely _two_ drops into each eye. Okay, dear? Only _two_ drops, or the overdose might cause some very unpleasant side effects,' she rattled off, holding out the bottle to Harry, who took it.

'I wasn't _antagonising_ him!' Harry protested, barely listening to a word she was saying. 'He started it!'

'Well, I don't care who started it, just don't bother him, okay?' Before Harry could reply, Madam Pomfrey had disappeared behind the curtains surrounding Draco's bed again.

'Stupid git,' Harry muttered as he exited the hospital wing, bottle of eye drops in hand.

* * *

I always wanted to do this. I just kept forgetting. Anyway, thanks to reviewers! (to all reviewers) 

**Silo** Well, you'll find out, won't you:) **anotherpleb** I have no idea. I never plan anything out. I suppose so, yeah…good idea. **SugarGirl** Thanks! And here's your chapter! **Shadowface** At your command…heh heh. **japanese-jew **First of all, 'retransmuted' isn't even a word. I know 'sorcery' isn't a word either, at least not used in that context, but I'm just like that. And I KNOW 'The Philosopher's Very Sorcery Stone' is lame. Lameness is my specialty. Also, I'd already decided on the password, hadn't I? And 'toujours pur' was already in OotP. I'm not going to plagiarise J.K. Rowling any more than I've already done. Possibly. I don't know. Not like that, anyway.


	5. Blutak?

**Chapter Five – Blutak?  
**

(A/N: This chapter is a lot shorter than the other 'Chapter Five', because I deleted the dream thingy. I decided to do two versions of the story, one AU, one 'real world'. Thanks to elemental-girl, firelegs, and High Serpent King for answering the survey:)

In actuality, two people said 'real world', and one said 'reliving his life', which is something I never thought about, but I'll take that as an 'AU' vote. But my vote was 'two versions', so...well. I'm just going to go with my plan. Heh heh heh.

**Update Feb. 22nd, 2006:** No, I'm not going to do two versions, I changed my mind. New readers, you missed the author's note I just deleted, so I'm putting it here.)

* * *

Blaise dashed along the hall, terrifying quite a few fellow first-years (Hufflepuffs) as he went. As he ran, though, a thought slowly surfaced in his mind: _Harry had no idea where the hospital wing was._

It took a while before this thought actually registered properly. When it did, though, Blaise stopped abruptly and sighed in frustration. How the heck was he supposed to find Harry and possibly stop him dying a premature death at Draco's hands, or at least stop him getting lost?

He was near the hospital wing, though, so he hopefully strode towards the white door with the gleaming golden plaque, and reached out for the doorknob when it opened.

He barely had time to register who it was when he/she/it walked right into him. With a muffled 'Oof!' they both fell onto the hard marble floor.

'Blaise!' Harry said in surprise, scrambling off his friend. 'What are you doing here?'

'That's nice,' said Blaise, attempting to get up. '"What are you doing here?" Not "Hi, Blaise" or even a "Sorry I knocked you over, Blaise".'

'Right,' said Harry sheepishly, helping him up. 'Sorry.'

'I think my back is broken,' said Blaise, wincing as he tried to stretch.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again. 'No, it isn't,' he said. 'All you did was fall down, you'll be fine.'

'How'd you find the hospital wing?' Blaise asked, as they walked back to the dungeons.

Harry shrugged. 'I suspect that it was the only way that I could have found the hospital wing without yours or Draco's help, which would sort of spoil the upcoming scene's drama, so the author had me find myself standing _right next to it_ by what I thought was pure luck, but it was probably just luck.'

'Oooookay…' said Blaise cautiously, clearly thinking Harry was unhinged.

'I'm not unhinged!' Harry protested.

'Right. Suuuuuuuuure you're not, Harry.'

They had reached the dungeons. Blaise muttered the password and they stepped through the door. A few fifth-year Slytherins glanced up, but went back to whatever they were doing. Harry was relieved that most of them didn't seem to hate him as much now, or at least they didn't show it, anyway.

They walked up the cold stone staircase to their dormitory and relaxed on their beds. Harry examined the bottle of eye drops. There was no label.

'I can't remember how many drops Madame Pomfrey said to take,' Harry said aloud.

Blaise shrugged, though Harry couldn't see him. 'Ask.'

'I'm not going back there!'

'Oh, you encountered Draco, did you? Okay then…try one drop first.'

Harry shook his head. 'I think that's too little.'

'Oh yeah, Pomfrey's stuff only works if you do it exactly right. I don't know, three then.'

Harry thought about this. It sounded right enough. He shrugged, tipped his head back, raised the tiny bottle, dropping exactly three drops into his right eye and repeating with the other one. He blinked, hard, and put the bottle away.

* * *

Nothing eventful happened until the next morning.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a bit strained, since Draco and Harry were not speaking to each other (Draco having been released from the hospital wing that morning). They sat on either side of Blaise, Harry occasionally asking Blaise to pass the marmalade or such, and Draco not speaking at all. 

Lessons didn't go too well. The work for that day in Transfiguration required two people working together, and Professor McGonagall made the unfortunate mistake of pairing Draco and Harry together. Sparks were literally flying when the class ended, though Professor McGonagall couldn't do anything other than take a few points from Slytherin for not concentrating on their work (several times), since they hadn't technically really done anything extreme enough to warrant a detention.

Lunch and supper were pretty much the same as breakfast, except that instead of Harry asking Blaise to pass the butter or jam or such, he stayed silent. Blaise tried to get them talking to each other, but to no avail: they only spoke to Blaise, and only when he asked something or whatever, and only in short answers. Mostly 'yes' and 'no' responses.

Finally, Blaise gave up, sighed, and ate his dinner in silence.

The next day, Harry got up and went down to the common room to find a notice (somehow) affixed to the (oddly enough, also stone) bulletin board. Flying lessons would start on Thursday, it stated, and Slytherin and Gryffindor would be learning together.

Harry sighed. _Ain't that just fine,_ he thought. _Now I have a chance to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone. I wonder how that notice is stuck to that board?_

Harry reached up and pulled the parchment off the stone. _Oh. Blu-Tak._

He went down to breakfast alone.

When Draco and Blaise came down, Harry noticed that Draco seemed to have come out of his 'silent time'. He was talking animatedly to Blaise about something, and Blaise was rolling his eyes and nodding uninterestedly.

Blaise saw Harry and sat down next to him. Draco scowled slightly, but his talking never ceased, and he sat down beside Blaise. Harry wondered if he even knew Blaise wasn't listening, or if he just enjoyed listening to the sound of his own voice.

'…and then I nearly crashed into it, but due to my excellent flying skills, I managed to avoid it, swerving sharply to the left…'

So Draco had seen the notice. Apparently he was talking about his 'excellent flying skills'. Well, Harry would have to see it before he believed it.

At 3:30 pm, Harry, who had previously been studying in the library, hurried onto the grounds for his flying lessons, hoping he wasn't late. He saw Ron and the other Gryffindors in front of him, so he slowed down and waited for them to get there first.

The other Slytherins were already there, and beside them were twenty broomsticks lying in two neat rows on the grass. Harry joined them, but kept at a short distance away from Draco.

Just then, their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. 'Well, what are you all waiting for?' she said. 'Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up…'

Everyone rushed to claim a spot. When everyone else was standing by a broomstick, Harry scowled when he saw that the only spot left was beside Draco. He stalked over to the broomstick and stood beside him, crossing his arms and deliberately ignoring him.

'Stick your right hand out over the broom,' Madm Hooch instructed, 'and say, "Up!"'

'UP!' everyone yelled.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand; it was one of the few that did. He noticed that Draco's broom had not moved, and he couldn't help grinning. Draco scowled and picked it up from the ground quickly.

Blaise, who was next to Draco, sighed. _At least they're acknowledging each other, I guess,_ he thought.

'Cheater,' Harry said under his breath innocently, just loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco scowled even more. Harry grinned again.

Madam Hooch sighed at her class's disappointing performance. 'We'll move on to mounting our brooms, then. Swing your right over the broom…_over_ the broom, mind you…'

She sighed again as everyone struggled (and failed) to mount their brooms and the height it had risen to and walked up and down the rows, checking everyone's progress, if any, and correcting (a lot of) mistakes.

'No, Malfoy, how many times have I told you, you don't _force_ the broom down to the proper height? _You_ help the broom, the broom does not help you. You've been doing it wrong for _years_…'

Harry couldn't fathom how Madam Hooch knew Malfoy had been doing it wrong for years when this was their first year, but he was happy anyway. He saw Ron grinning too. He caught his eye but Ron quickly looked away, no longer smiling.

When Madam Hooch was finally satisfied that they knew how to mount their brooms correctly, she told them, 'Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come _straight back down_ by leaning forwards _slightly_. On my whistle – three...two – '

Neville Longbottom pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

'Come back, boy!' she shouted, but Neville was rising up quick – twelve feet – fifteen – twenty feet…

Neville's now pale white face looked down. Big mistake. His eyes widened, he gasped, and slid sideways off the broom.

He fell.

Harry winced when he hit the ground.

* * *

**elemental-girl** I always need help. I just choose not to ask for it. **firelegs** Thanks! Great idea too, never thought of that. Unfortunately I probably won't be using. Two versions is already a bit too much. Thanks anyway, though. **HarrySlytherinson** Here's an update...though not really very 'soon' is it:) **High Serpent King** Yeah, I know, the title's REALLY lame. Lameness IS my specialty, though. :) 


	6. Cyber Drumroll Time!

**Chapter Six – Cyber Drumroll Time!**

(A/N: I'm bored. And I can't ride a bike. Which is very, very not good because I have to ride a bike on that school trip to Guilin. We're going to be bike-riding along some river. Which I am going to fall into. Because I can't ride a bike.

And the even worse thing about all that is that I can't even skip out on that activity. Because if I refuse to learn to ride a bike, I'm going to be running. And I'm even worse at running than I am at bike-riding. And that is saying something, because I can't ride a bike.)

* * *

'That's gotta hurt,' Blaise mumbled to himself quietly, so that no one heard. It wasn't done for a Slytherin to feel sympathy for a Gryffindor – for anyone, really, except possibly Slytherins, but especially Gryffindors. 

Madam Hooch hurried over to Neville and inspected him gingerly. 'Broken wrist,' Harry heard her mutter. 'Come on boy, it's all right, up you get.'

'None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You…'

Harry tuned her out. She was getting boring. He wondered what would be for dinner tonight. Pork chops, perhaps? Shepherd's pie? Yorkshire pudding (technically for dessert, but still)?

Draco suddenly burst into laughter, which brought him back into the real world. He looked around, and noticed that both Neville and Madam Hooch were gone.

'Did you see his face, the great lump?' Draco choked out.

'Leave Neville alone, you great prat,' Parvati spat at him.

'Ooh, sticking up for him now are you? Never thought _you'd_ be the type to go for fat little crybabies, Patil,' said Pansy Parkinson smugly.

'Hey, what's this?' Draco said suddenly, effectively breaking up the banter. He bent down to pick up a globe from the floor. 'It's Longbottom's Remembrall.'

Harry had no idea what a Remembrall was, but it was Neville's, and he didn't like Draco anyway, so…

'Give it back, Dra – Malfoy,' he corrected himself.

Draco sneered. 'I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to retrieve – how about…up a tree?'

'Give it back!' Harry yelled, but Draco had already shot up into the air on his broom.

'Come and get it, Potter!' he shouted tauntingly. Harry was furious. He grabbed his broom – Hermione Granger looked like she was about to stop him, but decided against it – mounted it, and kicked off.

He soared up, up, up, and discovered, with much joy, that this was something he could do without being taught. He turned to face Draco, who looked quite surprised.

'Give it here,' Harry repeated, 'or I'll knock you off your broom!'

'Oh yeah?' Draco tried to look intimidating, but failed.

Harry leaned forward, gripping the broom tightly in both hands, and he shot towards Draco like a javelin. Draco's eyes widened, and he quickly scrambled to get out of the way.

Harry turned back around to face Draco again. 'No one up here to save your neck, Malfoy,' Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck him. 'Catch it if you can, then!' he yelled, and he threw the glass ball up into the air and streaked back down to the ground.

Harry watched in horror as the Remembrall rose up, and as though in slow motion, began to fall back down to the ground below.

He leant forward again, pointing the end of the broom downwards towards the Remembrall, and zoomed down, down, down, getting ever closer to the glass ball – a foot from the ground he caught it, pulled his broom up sharply, and toppled gently onto the grass.

He half expected for a teacher to run out and expel him immediately, but nothing happened.

'HARRY POTTER!'

Oops. Spoke too soon.

Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, was running towards them. He got to his feet, shaking.

'_Never_, in all my time at Hogwarts…'

Professor McGonagall was practically speechless with shock. 'How _dare_ you – might have broken your neck…'

Harry looked around helplessly. No one was going to help him, not against the strict, formidable Head of Gryffindor (and Deputy Headmistress).

'Potter, follow me, now.'

He looked back as he walked after Professor McGonagall – Draco somehow managed to look smug, triumphant, and slightly worried all at once. Blaise just looked worried (and was trying to hide it with a mask of indifference).

Oh, man. He was _so_ dead.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Professor McGonagall was heading down to the dungeons.

He only looked up when he heard her knock on a door. The plaque on the door said 'Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House'.

Oh dear. This was really very not very good. At all.

'Enter,' came Snape's voice. Professor McGonagall opened the door. Snape's lip curled unpleasantly when he caught sight of Harry.

'Professor Snape,' said Professor McGonagall, 'I just found Potter executing an extremely dangerous fifty-foot dive while Madam Hooch was taking a student to the hospital wing. This is a severely unsafe act, and he must be punished accordingly, so that he may never do it again. It sets a bad example to other students, Professor Snape.'

Snape just sat there and listened to her speech. When she was done, he just looked at her. Then he glanced at Harry.

'Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I will deal with Potter accordingly.'

Professor McGonagall didn't move.

'Thank you for informing me of Potter's…misdeeds,' he said, getting up and heading over to the door. 'Let me escort you out.'

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned. '_Thank_ you, Professor Snape, but I can escort myself out, thank you very much.' She walked out.

Snape closed the door and sat back down in his chair. He surveyed Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

When he spoke, it was in a soft, dangerous voice. 'Potter, why did you fly on your broomstick when I know for a fact that Madam Hooch never would have left a class without warning them first of the severe consequences should a student even _touch_ their broomstick?'

Harry started to explain. 'It was Malfoy, professor, and he stole Neville Longbottom's Remembrall, and he flew off with it, and I was only trying to help Neville, professor – '

'Enough,' Snape interrupted. 'I do not care for your feeble excuses, Potter.'

'But Malfoy started it – '

'It does not matter who started it. It matters, however, that you broke the rules when Madam Hooch so specifically set them for your own safety.' He got up again.

'But it does not matter to you, does it, Potter? That she was only looking out for your health? You are just like your father, Potter…no care for the rules at all…strutting around the school like he owned the place…'

'My father didn't _strut_,' said Harry vehemently. 'And nor do I.'

Snape rounded on him, eyes flashing. 'Do not interrupt a teacher, Potter!'

Harry glared at him. He didn't actually know his father, but he was _sure_ – absolutely sure – that he wasn't as arrogant as Snape was making him out to be. He didn't know why Snape seemed to have a personal vendetta against his father, but hey, all the more reason to hate him, then.

Snape calmed down again. 'Detention, Potter. Five o' clock, Tuesday, in my office.'

'Yes, professor.'

'Now get out.'

Harry walked out, slamming the door behind him. He heard Snape call out after him, 'Five points from – I mean _to_ – ah, geez.'

Harry snorted in laughter.

* * *

That night, Harry was sitting alone eating dinner (Blaise was in the library, finishing up his Transfiguration essay). 

'Having a last meal, H – Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?' a voice said behind him.

Harry turned around and was surprised to see that Draco had quickly recruited Crabbe and Goyle again. He could've sworn he'd heard him slip and start to say 'Harry', but he thought he must have heard wrong.

He looked at Draco square in the eye. 'You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you,' Harry said, trying to maintain an air of indifference. There was of course nothing 'little' about neither Crabbe nor Goyle, but as they were in the Great Hall, with teachers sitting right up there at the High Table, there was nothing they could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl threateningly.

Harry had the fleeting thought that he still hadn't learned to scowl or smirk properly yet.

Draco scowled. 'I'd take you any time on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact. What's the matter, never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?'

Harry swallowed. He had, of course, absolutely no idea what a wizard's duel was, but perhaps he could bluff his way through.

'Of course I have,' he said.

'Oh yeah?' Draco sneered. 'What is it then?'

Well, that didn't work. He was in a tight spot. What could he do? He opened his mouth, no idea of what he was about to say, but –

'Why're you asking him, Malfoy, do you need him to tell you?' Ron interrupted.

'Oh look, a dirt-poor Weasley,' Draco said with disdain.

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists. Harry looked on in surprise.

'Well, who's your second then, Potter?' Draco said, now addressing Harry. Harry looked up, panicking.

'I'm his second, of course,' said Ron, saving Harry again. 'Who's yours?'

Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

'Crabbe,' he said finally. 'Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked.' And he sloped off, Crabbe and Goyle following.

Harry looked at Ron gratefully. 'Thanks,' he said. 'What _is_ a wizard's duel, anyway? And what's a second?'

'A second's there to take over if you die,' said Ron. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added, 'but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other.'

Harry relaxed. 'Thanks,' he said gratefully. 'For saving me.'

'Don't mention it,' said Ron shortly. And he left, too.

Well, that was a start, at least.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the evening helping Blaise with his essay. Well, not helping with the _writing_ of the essay, as such, but more like helping Blaise to puzzle over what to write next. So technically, Harry was actually helping. 

They left the library at eight forty-five (because their curfew was nine o' clock) for the Slytherin common room.

When they got there, it was eight-fifty. Harry promptly flopped down onto a chair.

It was only mid-flop that Harry realised what the chairs were made of, and tried to stop himself. But, as you may well know, It is very hard to stop oneself flopping while one is mid-flop. When he landed, he was rather surprised to find himself bouncing slightly on the 'stone'.

'I'm going up to work on my essay,' Blaise muttered, heading for the steps. Harry made a small noise of acknowledgement, not moving.

Did he have any homework? He thought for a bit.

Oh, yes he did. He had a Potions assignment. Which was…due tomorrow. Morning. First thing.

Harry jumped out of the chair and sprinted up the stairs.

Blaise was working quietly on his desk and didn't even look up when Harry came in. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Harry got to work.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair, tipping it back on its legs. He looked over to Blaise's desk. The work was there, but the person was not. He glanced at Blaise's bed. He was already asleep. Harry supposed he'd been so engrossed in his work he hadn't noticed Blaise getting up. 

He checked his watch and gave a start, toppling the chair over and landing with a painful thud on the floor. 'Ouch!'

It was already eleven forty-five. Had it really taken him that long to do his Potions homework?

He quickly righted the chair, cleared off his desk, and stretched, giving another huge yawn.

He started again when he realised he had to meet Draco in the trophy room. What was he going to say when Ron didn't show up?

Harry sighed, pocketed his wand, and left for the trophy room.

* * *

(A/N: **Review**! Please **review** a lot! Because **review**s are nice! And everyone likes **review**s! 

Oh, and by the way, someone give me a title for this chapter. A sensible title. Please.)

**High Serpent King** Well, I made up my mind, see? And I chose the one that won the polls, so you should be happy, eh:) **Dogss** I know you probably meant to flame me or something, butI actually found your review funny. Especially that last bit. :P **Serb-Maco** Thanks! Here's your chapter then...:D


	7. We're Dead, We're Dead, We're Dead

**Chapter Seven – We're Dead, We're Dead, We're Dead**

(A/N: I have nothing to say. Not now, anyway.)

* * *

_I wonder where the trophy room is,_ Harry thought as he casually strolled through the hall. _Oh well, maybe the author will have me wander around for a bit and then have me find myself conveniently standing right in front of it by what I will think is pure luck, but actually the only way I could have found the trophy room._

_Or maybe I'll get lost and starve to death._

Shaking his head to clear his mind of these depressing thoughts, he suddenly heard something.

He jumped. With all the silence he'd been wandering around in, he hadn't expected anyone to be up at this time of night. He felt for his wand and found it, closing his fingers around it and taking it out. He looked around cautiously.

There it was again. It sounded like…a cat's meow?

_Mrs Norris,_ he thought with alarm.

The aforementioned cat slunk lazily around the corner and spotted Harry. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, simultaneously, they both sprinted off in opposite directions, one looking for its owner, the other for a safe hiding spot.

Two seconds later, Filch came dashing round the corner, huffing and puffing, followed by Mrs Norris, but Harry was gone.

'I'm on to you, little brat,' he muttered. 'Don't think I won't catch you, because I will.' And with a last lingering glance at the deserted hallway, he sloped off.

Twenty feet away, Harry was still running. He slowed to a stop, suddenly realising he was making quite a bit of noise, and listened closely for any other noises (cats in particular). Nothing. He sighed in relief, but kept his guard up as he walked.

Looking around, he now saw that he was in unfamiliar surroundings.

Okay, not good.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a thing by a portrait. He looked closer, and saw that it was a human thing. As he approached cautiously, the human thing stirred slowly and raised its head from its original crouched position, and spotted Harry, who froze.

'Mmf…wha...Harry? Harry Potter?' said Neville Longbottom, slowly getting up and rubbing his eyes.

Harry unfroze. 'Uh, yeah, that's me,' he said.

'I was hoping it would be a Gryffindor…I've forgotten the password to the common room again…' said Neville with a sigh.

'Er…so why are you here?'

'Well, this is where – ' Neville suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence and looked around shiftily. 'Er…anyway, I didn't really have anywhere else to go…I was just released from the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey fixed my broken wrist in about three seconds…' he explained, showing his no-longer-broken wrist to Harry.

'Oh…'

'Yeah.'

Harry nodded sagely. He had no idea why he was nodding, but it seemed an appropriate thing to do at the time.

'I'm sorry I can't help you, Neville, but I hope another Gryffindor comes by soon.'

'It's all right.'

Suddenly a creaking noise reached their ears. Harry sighed, because he was really getting tired of all these potentially-getting-him-into-trouble noises, and stepped back into the shadows. He was wearing his black robe, so he couldn't be that easily noticed. Neville looked quite terrified.

The portrait creaked open, like a door, and Harry's eyes widened as a bright red head of hair poked out. It scanned the area. Harry held his breath as the eyes swept over him, and let it out when they spotted Neville.

'Neville! What are you doing here?' Ron hissed, stepping out of the portrait. It closed behind him. 'It's almost midnight!'

'I forgot the password to the common room,' Neville said, eyes nervously darting over to where Harry stood.

'What are you looking at?' Ron asked curiously, following Neville's gaze.

Harry sighed. His cover was as good as blown, in any case, so he stepped out from the shadows.

Ron jumped back in surprise. 'Potter?'

'You don't have to refer to me by my last name, you know,' said Harry irritably.

'I'll do what I want to, thank you,' Ron fired back, slowly getting over his shock.

The portrait creaked again as it swung open. Ron quickly moved out of the way to avoid getting hit by it as a rather irate Hermione Granger appeared in a pink nightgown.

'I can't believe you've sneaked out, Ron, Neville!' she said, glaring at them. Ron met her glare and upped it one notch.

Hermione looked over to Harry, who was still standing there. She cocked her head. 'Oh, hello. I don't believe we've met properly,' she said cordially, holding out a hand. Harry shook it. 'You're Harry Potter, aren't you?' she continued. 'I've read about you – you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.'

'Am I,' said Harry flatly. Hermione didn't seem to pick up on the complete unsurprised tone of his voice, or she chose to ignore it.

'Goodness, didn't you know, I've had found everything I could,' said Hermione. 'Anyway, _you_ two – ' she whirled back round to discover Neville staring at the portrait and Ron, who had been watching their conversation, 'shouldn't be out at this time of night! I heard you sneaking down, Ron – didn't you know the third stair from the bottom creaks? – and came down to investigate. Anyway, we should be going back to bed now, or we'll all get into trouble – Neville, what are you doing?' she finished, finally noticing Neville's blank stare at the Gryffindor common room entrance.

They all turned their gazes to the now-blank portrait – the guardian had apparently gone for a midnight stroll in the midst of Hermione's rather long tirade.

'Oh no,' Hermione breathed.

'Oh no is right,' said Ron. 'How're we going to get back in now?'

'We'll all be caught!' Hermione cried shrilly, a slight note of hysteria to her voice.

'Er…' said Harry, and everyone glared at him. 'Er…' he repeated. 'Er, I was…actually going somewhere, so uh…maybe you can hide out somewhere until,' he waved vaguely at the empty portrait, 'comes back. Er, so, bye then.'

He quickly walked away.

'Oh no you don't!' Hermione exclaimed, and Harry winced. With all the noise she was making, they'd be caught for sure. He turned around to find all three Gryffindors, Neville albeit a little hesitantly, stomping (at least in Hermione's case) in his direction.

'You're out here too, and if we're getting caught, you're getting caught too, otherwise I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall,' Hermione said. Harry frowned slightly at this reasoning, but brushed it aside and said to Hermione in an undertone, 'Look, I know Mrs Norris and Filch are always patrolling, and I mean _always_, and Peeves is definitely around all the time, so I'd appreciate it if you would _keep your voice down_,' he concluded.

Hermione huffed. 'Fine,' she said, but she did it quietly, for which Harry was quite thankful.

'If you want to come with me, then fine, but please, keep it _quiet_,' Harry repeated. He paused. 'Say, do any of you know where the trophy room is?'

There was a slight grumbling noise from Ron and he stepped forward, wordlessly leading the way.

'I'll take that as a yes then,' Harry said to himself, following.

* * *

Hallways, corridors, and many, many turns later (Harry had lost count at twenty-one, or maybe it was twenty-two), Ron stopped abruptly. Harry almost bumped into him, and this may have provided some comic relief, but the author has chosen not to make Harry bump into Ron, so there will be no comic relief as of yet. Hermione and Neville stopped as well. 

Ron stepped away from the door to let Harry open it. Harry turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The trophy room was empty.

Harry blinked.

He walked into the room, still looking around to see if Draco was there.

He wasn't.

'Hey, where's Malfoy?' Ron said as he followed Harry in.

'Why would you be looking for him?' asked Hermione with a slight frown. They ignored her.

'Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.'

All four of them stopped moving.

'That was Filch, wasn't it?' Ron whispered.

Harry nodded. Then, motioning for the others to follow him, he tiptoed towards the door, opened it (thankfully, it did not creak) and tiptoed out.

Neville's robes had only just disappeared behind the door frame when they heard the creaking of another door; Filch had entered the trophy room.

'They're in here somewhere.'

Panicking slightly, Harry walked a little faster.

'Probably hiding…'

They heard Filch getting nearer.

Mrs Norris meowed. Somehow, Filch apparently translated this to 'I can smell something foreign. Someone was here just seconds ago,' because he said, 'Someone was here just moments ago? They must still be near. Quick, Mrs Norris, you check outside and see if anyone's out there!'

Terrified, Neville let out a little squeak, ran forwards, tripped over Ron's feet, and fell into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

'RUN!' Harry yelled, sprinting forwards and roughly grabbing Neville, Ron doing the same.

Harry leading, the four of them dashed down hallway after hallway, skidding around corners, narrowly avoiding ornaments.

They ripped through a tapestry, found themselves in a hidden passageway, ran along it, and emerged in a place which Harry recognised as being near their Charms classroom.

Harry collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Ron was bent over, using the wall for support, Neville was spluttering and wheezing, and Hermione was leaning against the wall, clutching at the stitch in her side.

'I – _told_ – you,' she wheezed. 'I – told – you.'

Harry didn't know _what_ she'd told them, and he didn't even know who she was talking to, but that didn't matter.

_Draco was never going to meet you in the trophy room,_ said a voice inside his head. _He tricked you, you realise that? He played you like a fool. And like an idiot, you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker._

'Shut up,' he muttered.

'What?' said Ron, looking at him strangely.

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly. 'C'mon, let's go.'

They had barely got half a dozen steps when there was a rattling noise.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. He was really getting sick of these noises-that-could-possibly-get-him-in-trouble.

Suddenly, Peeves the poltergeist shot out from the door of the Charms classroom. He saw them and gave a gleeful shout of joy.

'Oh no,' Hermione muttered.

'Ickle firsties!' Peeves exclaimed delightedly. 'What are you ickle firsties doing out of bed? You're bad ickle firsties, yes you are!'

'Oh no, please, Peeves – you'll get us expelled,' Hermione pleaded.

'Should tell Filch, I should. Don't want any ickle firsties getting out of trouble.'

'Don't get us into trouble, Peeves, please,' Harry said, checking up and down the corridor in case Filch and Mrs Norris were coming so they could get ready to run.

'Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty. Should report you, yes I should.'

'Shut up, you, and get out of our way,' Ron said angrily, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.

'STUDENTS OUT OF BED!' Peeves bellowed. 'STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN CHARMS CORRIDOR!'

Before the last word was out of Peeves' mouth they had already started running. They ran to the end of the corridor, and slammed into the door – it was locked.

'We're doomed,' Hermione moaned. 'We're going to get caught, and we'll be expelled, and I'll have to get a second-rate education, all because of one stupid mistake…'

Ron pushed frantically at the door. 'We're dead, we're dead, we're dead…'

Suddenly Hermione's face lit up. She grabbed Harry's wand and shoved Ron out of the way. 'Move over – _Alohomora_!'

The lock clicked and the door crashed open. They hurriedly shoved each other inside and slammed the door shut.

'Which way did they go, Peeves, which way did they go?' they heard Filch say eagerly, as they pressed their ears against the door. 'Quick, tell me, before they get away!'

'Say please.'

'Don't mess me about, Peeves, now _which way did they go_?'

'Shan't say nothing if you don't say please,' said Peeves in a singsong voice.

'All right – _please_.' It sounded rather forced.

'NOTHING! HA HA! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! HA HA HA!' And then they heard Peeves zooming away and Filch cursing in rage.

'He thinks this door's locked,' whispered Hermione, rather stating the obvious.

Harry finally Neville tugging on his robe. 'What, Neville?'

He pointed.

* * *

(A/N: CLIFFIE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Well, not really much of a cliffie, is it, since you all know what happens next.

You know, oddly, for some reason 'cliffie' is a spelling mistake but 'CLIFFIE' isn't. How odd. According to Microsoft Word's spell checker that is.

Maybe it thinks it's an acronym.

This chapter, including the author's notes, not including the review responses, because my Internet connection wasn't working again, was finished at 3:36 am on Tuesday, June 28, 2005 (at that time, though it had yet to be titled properly), because, as mentioned above, my Internet connection wasn't working again and I couldn't sleep. Anyone have any insomnia cures, besides sleeping pills?

Oh, I've got a title now. It is roughly 3:45 am.

Don't forget to **review**, because **review**s are nice, and everyone likes **review**s! And it might just be an incentive for me to update faster. If you **review**, I mean.)

**fire-legs** Oops. Ahh! Sorry! Completely forgot. And I thought my memory was improving. Sigh. Well, thanks for reviewing twice then. :) **High Serpent King** Oh yeah, I updated. Go me. Again. Well, I didn't use your suggestion. Too bad. Heh heh. I did say lameness was my specialty. **Serpent of Light** (blinks) Wow. That's a long review. Thanks so so much, for the review, and for adding me to your Favourites list and Author Alert list and…yeah. :D I did sort of use your suggestion. You know, the cyber drumroll thin.g. Thanks! **SlythsRule** Yeah, I know. That's why the summary is what it is. Hee hee. **Shadowface** Yep, I know. No one seems to have reported me yet though, right? Hmm. Maybe I should delete it. And maybe just add it to this chapter. Or Chapter Six.


	8. Insert Title Here :remainder deleted:

**Chapter Eight – Insert Title Here. Eventually. Maybe. Erm. Right. Whatever.**

(A/N: You know, my Internet connection is REEEEEEEAAAAAAALLLLLLYYYYYYYY annoying. I mean, seriously. So okay, I installed Norton Internet Security today, and it said I had to restart my computer for the settings to take effect. And at that time, the connection was working fine. So then I restarted my computer, and then the Internet WASN'T WORKING AGAIN!

Also, both my computer and Internet router and immune to death threats already. It doesn't work. I've tried. Multiple times.

Well, for those few of you who do actually enjoy this story, I guess you should thank it. Because if it was working, I probably wouldn't be typing this. My connection working is now rather a rare thing, you know.

And if there are more of you who enjoy this story than I think there are, then please review so I am aware that you are actually reading this and enjoying it so I might just update faster. Positive reviews are quite encouraging, you know.)

* * *

**Last time…**

'_He thinks this door's locked,' whispered Hermione, rather stating the obvious._

_Harry finally noticed Neville tugging on his robe. 'What, Neville?'_

_He pointed._

* * *

And when Harry looked, he suddenly knew why Dumbledore had warned everyone to stay away from the third floor corridor. 

Standing less than five feet away from them, there stood a large, growling, angry, ferocious, furious, humungous, enormous, livid, huge, dangerous-looking, really big fuzzy pink rabbit.

Hermione screamed.

Harry whipped around and reached for the door handle – between Filch and death, he'd take Filch. Ron got there first, however, despite the fact that Harry had been closer in the first place, and yanked the door open and ran out without even checking to see if Filch was there or not.

Well, if Filch or Mrs Norris _were_ there, one of them would have bound to have seen Ron by now. Following this logic, Harry decided they were pretty much doomed if they were there (and if they weren't, then it was safe to go out anyway), and quickly followed Ron, Hermione and Neville at his heels. Hermione slammed the door shut – just in time, as they could hear the rabbit slamming itself against the door only moments later.

Harry glanced at the end of the hall. Ron was already halfway down the corridor and still running. Harry hurried to catch up, looking behind to make sure Hermione and Neville were following.

When Harry reached the end, however, he remembered that the dungeons were down the other way, not where Ron was headed. He waved a quick goodbye to Hermione and Neville, and sprinted down to the left and down the stairs to the dungeons. He reached the wall, whispered '_Calx pur sang astrum_', briefly wondering why they couldn't make the password shorter, and practically leapt inside when the hidden stone door slid open.

He collapsed into a chair and stayed there, breathing heavily. When he calmed down a bit more a few seconds later, he sat there, thinking. He was _so_ going to give Malfoy a piece of his mind when he got up there, oh man, Malfoy was so dead, Malfoy was going to be expelled, he was going to kill Malfoy slowly and painfully, he was going to throw Malfoy off the top of the Astronomy Tower…

Harry decided not to, because he wasn't sure whether they had the death penalty or not in the wizarding world and he certainly didn't want to get killed anyway, after that narrow escape from death in the first place from that horrible REALLY BIG FUZZY PINK RABBIT. He shuddered, and tried to think of other things.

Like, for example, how tired he was, and the fact that he had class in the morning. Harry sprang up and quickly jogged up the stairs to the first-year boy's dormitory.

He quietly opened the door and crept inside, slowly shutting the door behind him. He glanced briefly over at Malfoy's bed, but resisted the temptation to go wake him up and toss him out the window. Malfoy would, after all, make a lot of noise, when or if he discovered Harry trying to toss him out the window, which would wake everybody else up. And Blaise was nice, and Theodore Nott probably had nothing to do with it, and Crabbe and Goyle couldn't help being so stupid. Or maybe they could. Harry wasn't sure. Either way, it was only for the sake of Blaise and possibly Theodore that he didn't wake Malfoy up and toss him out the window.

Harry was so going to get him tomorrow, though. He thought. Hmm. If he got up early enough, he might be able to wake up before Malfoy did and possibly toss him out the window – or any window, actually, Harry wasn't all that picky – while everyone else was down at breakfast. And maybe before Malfoy did anything else to him, because he wouldn't put it past him to do so.

It was only when Harry woke up the next morning (before everyone else, and I do mean _everyone_ else) that he discovered/realised/remembered that he was in the dungeons, and there were no windows. And all the windows everywhere else were in plain view of _everyone_ else, and he didn't want to be convicted of a crime and get sent to jail or something. Even if they had colour TV. Oh wait, they didn't have television in the wizarding world…well, he definitely did not want to get sent to jail, then.

Since he was up anyway, he figured he might as well perform his morning necessities/routine and get down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Transfiguration was first, and Malfoy probably wouldn't try anything under Professor McGonagall's nose, so Harry would have time to think of a plan to exact revenge.

Quickly and quietly, he got out of bed, made it neatly, brushed his teeth, took a quick shower, tried and failed to comb his hair so that it looked even slightly more presentable, got dressed, gathered his things for the day, washed his face, and left the room – not in that order. The author just typed them in off the top of her head, because she doesn't have much of a morning routine. And if she did have a routine she wasn't aware of, it definitely wasn't in the morning, except on school days, but school was out for the summer holidays, so she wouldn't have to worry about that until September, so go her.

And now, let us get back on topic.

The common room was empty. Harry checked the bulletin board (and he still remembered that the notices were affixed with Blu-Tak™), found nothing new, except that they now used Blu-Tak™ White to stick the notices to the board.

Humming merrily, because he couldn't whistle, he made his way down to the Great Hall and found it quite empty. Not completely empty, because there was a teacher or two in there, several students at the Ravenclaw table, and two older students at the Slytherin table. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables were entirely devoid of people. Harry checked his watch. It read six forty-two in the morning. Had he really gotten up at six today? After going to bed at past two o' clock yesterday?

Trying to ignore the curious stares of the Ravenclaws and the scowls of the two Slytherins, he sat down a little ways away from the only students at his House table, reaching for a piece of toast and looking around for the butter. After a quick search down the far end of the table, he turned up nothing that even remotely resembled butter.

He looked down the other end, where the other Slytherin students were sitting, and spied the butter. It was sitting oh-so-innocently next to someone's elbow. Harry sighed, and looked down at his toast. He only ever enjoyed his toast if it was buttered, because buttered toast was good. _Is_ good.

Harry sighed again, put down his toast, and tentatively made his way over to the two Slytherins. They looked up as he approached, one with curiosity, one with disdain. Well, both with disdain, really, but one more so than the other.

'Er…could I have the butter, please?' Harry asked politely. They just looked at him. Harry began to get slightly more nervous than he already was as they stared. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. 'Er…' Harry opened his mouth to ask for the butter again but decided he'd better not repeat himself too much, and closed it once more.

'Oh just take the butter already and spell your mouth shut, you look like a fish,' snapped the younger one, pushing the butter towards him.

'Er, thank you,' said Harry quickly, took the butter, and made his way back to his own seat.

He sat down to enjoy his breakfast. Ah, buttered toast, the finest of all breakfast delicacies. He buttered his toast slowly, carefully, methodically, making sure every inch of toast was covered with at least some butter. When he was finished, he put his knife down and bit into his toast.

Mmm, buttery…

Harry finished his buttered toast and sighed. One good piece of buttered toast already finished. Well, who was to say he couldn't have another? It was only just the one more, after all…Harry reached for another piece of toast, buttered it, and started on it again.

When he was about halfway through and already looking wistfully at the rest of the toast, the two Slytherins got up walked over to him. Harry didn't notice, trying to find a substitute for buttered toast. Eggs, maybe? Bacon?

He jumped when one of them touched his shoulder. He looked beside him. The older student was sitting right next to him.

'You got guts, kid,' he muttered. 'Not many first-years would ask a fifth-year anything, even if it is just butter. Name's Marcus Flint. I'm captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. You can call me Marcus,' he introduced himself, holding out a hand for Harry to shake.

_Slytherins must really like hand-shaking,_ Harry mused, shaking Marcus Flint's hand. _And apparently they don't grin much either._

'Heard about the incident with the Remembrall at your flying lesson,' Marcus continued. 'You did save a Gryffindor, but I hear your flying skills are excellent. Ever flown a broom before?'

Harry shook his head.

'Then you're a natural, Potter. I'd like to see an example of your flying. You don't have detention or anything today, do you?' Marcus inquired.

Harry shook his head again.

'Good. Get to the Quidditch pitch at lunch. You do know where that is, don't you?'

'Er…yes, I think so,' said Harry, thinking he was getting a bit repetitive with the head-shaking.

'Good, see you at noon. Oh, and the plates refill themselves, by the way.' And with that, Marcus left.

Harry shrugged and reached for another piece of toast.

More students began streaming in to the Great Hall, beginning at around seven-fifteen. Harry didn't take much notice of them. The plate had already refilled itself once, and he wasn't getting sick of the excellent toast anytime soon.

Pansy Parkinson entered the Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table. Looking around for something to eat, she spotted Harry, who did, admittedly, have an egg on his plate, but was ignoring it. Instead, he was concentrating on the toast.

Parkinson screamed. 'CARBS!' she yelled, running from the Hall.

Harry stared.

Parkinson ran back in, grabbed a boiled egg, and ran back out.

Harry stared.

Harry shrugged.

Harry resumed his eating of the buttered toast.

As he ate, though, he was thinking of what Pansy Parkinson had screamed before running out of the Hall the first time. 'Carbs', she had said. What did that mean?

Oh well. It didn't particularly matter that much, right? Unless…was she talking about the toast he was eating? She had been staring directly at him prior to screaming and escaping. But then, toast wasn't carbs. Toast was toast.

Malfoy entered the Great Hall and sat down where Parkinson had been before. He ignored Harry, who in turn ignored him. Sort of.

Harry needed a weakness, something that he could exploit and/or blackmail about. Hmm. He tried to discreetly observe Malfoy for anything he could use, but Malfoy seemed to feel Harry's eyes on him, and looked up. Before he could see Harry looking at him, though, Harry was crunching innocently at his forty-third piece of toast. Or maybe it was his fiftieth. Harry didn't know. He had long since stopped counting. Harry had a notoriously short attention span. Much like the author, actually.

Now Blaise came in, and sat down an equal distance away from both Harry and Malfoy. _That must mean he's still maintaining neutrality,_ Harry thought. _And I have a rather impressive vocabulary for a kid of a mere eleven years. Maybe it's like, you know, that comic, Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin's only six and he has a really big vocabulary. He uses words I don't understand. I liked that strip with the thing, the fish, and all that. That was really funny. And you know, I have a really short attention span._

Harry was glad he'd realised he had a really short attention span, because it was a good thing to know his strengths and weaknesses. That's what evil villains never did, they always overestimated themselves. Honestly. That's why the good guys always won. _Evil villains are pretty stupid, _Harry mused. _Yeah, that's pretty convenient for me that way._

Harry suddenly realised he'd been staring at Malfoy for the past two minutes. Malfoy was looking at him oddly. Harry gave him a little (fake) smile and a wave. Malfoy looked unnerved, scowled, and looked away.

Harry grinned in victory.

_That rabbit actually wasn't quite so bad,_ Harry thought idly as he stirred his cereal. _Quite an adventure. Wouldn't mind another one, in fact. Not much to do around here except homework, really. Well, that and avoid all the ghosts and trick stairs and things, not get bitten by anything in Herbology, try not to get detention with Filch, go to class, do homework, stay up all night doing homework, not get burned by anything in Potions, not get in the way of anything in any other class like Charms, Transfiguration, or Defence Against the Dark Arts, and…have adventures._

_Er. Right._

Harry broke off from his thoughts at looked down at his cereal. It was now soggy cereal. Harry sighed and put his spoon down.

Transfiguration first, was it…Harry checked his timetable. Yes, it was. Harry yawned, shoved his timetable into his bag, and set off for the Transfiguration classroom.

* * *

(A/N: Quite a short chapter, isn't it? Trouble is, I get major writer's block – maybe even more than usual, if that's possible – every time I try to think of something to write next. Could just a be a normal writer's block thing, or it could be that I read too many fanfictions with chapters that end with something like that. 

Oh yes, and the large, growling, angry, ferocious, furious, humungous, enormous, livid, huge, dangerous-looking, really big fuzzy pink rabbit…after I wrote that one, I was debating with myself whether to keep it or not. So I'm going to do another vote. This might qualify as 'interactive', but it doesn't really concern the story, looking at it from a person-in-denial's point of view, so HA. Anyway, it's more like having the readers solve a dilemma for the author, right? Yes, let's take that route.

So anyway. It isn't really a spoiler this time, this one. So, tell me, would you rather have me keep the large, growling, angry, ferocious, furious, humungous, enormous, livid, huge, dangerous-looking, really big fuzzy pink rabbit, or is that too silly for you? I get the feeling you're all going to vote for the dog.

Or maybe, not the dog. If you don't like the rabbit OR the dog, then maybe you can suggest something else. Well, thanks for your input, anyway, if you're going to vote.

Ah, can't believe I almost forgot this one. The obligatory review thing.

**Review** and I will be very happy. Because **review**s make people smile. Especially good **review**s. Because good **review**s are encouragements to update. Also, good **review**s are incentive for the author you are giving the **review** to to update. Quick. Or actually, well, maybe at least just quicker than she probably would have if you hadn't **review**ed. But that's better than nothing, right?)

I'm going to go for a new format in review responses. I get the feeling the last style was a bit hard to read.

**Serpent of Light:** Yet another wonderful review from a wonderful reviewer! (cheers)

Yeah, I checked, Word doesn't spellcheck things in capitals. I guess Bill Gates foresaw something with acronyms, or whatever. Actually I was fiddling with spellcheck at the time, and I stumbled across it. Or maybe it was the AutoCorrect thing. Can't remember.

…Yep. So about that Malfoy thing…I actually hadn't thought about that much. I'm writing as I go along. I have no sense of organisation. You should see my room. I've got three desks, actually two of them are sort of combined, and all of them are a total mess. The only clear space is in front of the computer, and that's only because I need to use it. Anyway, back on topic. I was originally maybe going to do the thing where Ron waits a while, then becomes friends with Harry again, but then…would it actually be more or less Ron-like to hate Harry even more, and assume Harry set it up?

Concerning Neville, don't worry, I'll try to add some more of him in, if you want. :)

And yeah, I thought maybe I could have changed the chase scene less like canon. Looking back, maybe I should have just let them get caught, and see where that would lead. But then, I've read on an author's profile somewhere, can't remember which one, that going back and changing something in your fic is like trying to cover up your mistakes. Covering up your mistakes, it's like saying, 'Look at me, my fic is perfect, and I most DEFINITELY do NOT make ANY mistakes in it!' but perhaps without the excessive capitalisation. :D

I have no idea what you're talking about on the congratulations on my grades, though. Please elaborate. I have a really bad memory. I may have said that before, but I have a really bad memory, so I wouldn't remember. :D

Oh, and one last thing…I just have to commend you for your excellent taste in fanfiction. Except, possibly, mine. With such other great stories and authors on your favourites list, I can't quite fathom why _I'm_ on it, of all people. I think my own favourite stories list is not going to have much more space left if I keep going through your favourites list and adding stories on there to my list.

**LiLy MaLfOy13:** Thanks!

**High Serpent King:** Unnecessary cliffhangers are fun. Haven't you ever tried one? Cliffhanger are always fun, though maybe only when you're the one writing them. Otherwise they're not so fun. And then you have to bombard the author with reviews to get them to update. Hint hint. ;)

I am being lame on purpose…I ask for suggestions for chapter titles, and then I pick something totally random the reviewer may have added in, like that little cyber drumroll from Serpent of Light, and then I make that the chapter title. Or something related. Or maybe unrelated to you, but related to me. Kind of complicated. :P

That's it for review responses. On an end note, that just reminded me, I need another suggestion for a chapter title. I have real issues with chapter titles. Maybe you should just start expecting, and start brainstorming, maybe, as you read. :)

I had something else I wanted to say that I thought of while I was typing up review responses, but I can't remember now. Might add that in later if I remember.


	9. Title, wahahahahahaha

**Chapter Nine – Title. Wahahahahahaha.**

(A/N: Insert witty and interesting author's note here.

By the way, I think my Internet connection is making me type, since it's not working again. Or maybe it's trying to make me go to sleep already, because it's 1:30. Which isn't actually all that late by my standards.

It may only be looking out for my health, which I seriously doubt, but anyway, I think I'd be a lot healthier with lower blood pressure.)

(Later A/N: My blood pressure is increasing at an alarming rate. The only reason we're not using that new Internet router thingy is because it doesn't work with my sister's computer. Theoretically, that could be fixed if my sister would move everything to the new hard disk we bought and then restore it to factory condition, but noooo, she is sitting outside on the couch – and has been for hours – WATCHING TV. WATCHING FREAKING TV.)

* * *

**Last time…**

_Transfiguration first, was it…Harry checked his timetable. Yes, it was. Harry yawned, shoved his timetable into his bag, and set off for the Transfiguration classroom._

* * *

_Trans…figuration…classroom._

That was Harry's interpretation of his current destination by his very sleep-deprived mind. _I really should have just slept in,_ Harry thought, dragging his feet. _Or I could have just called in sick._

_Aaaaargh,_ Harry's thoughts continued.

Harry suddenly snapped himself out of it, straightening and getting quite a few odd looks from the people in the corridor. He quickened his pace, determinedly striding to the 'Trans…figuration…classroom'.

He finally made it to the door and leaned heavily on the doorknob, almost falling in as he pushed the door open. He blearily made his way to what he assumed to be his seat and sat down, folding his arms and laying his head down on his desk. Might as well have a bit of a nap, since class hadn't started yet.

'Potter,' said a voice sharply. Harry looked up to find a very disgruntled Malfoy standing beside the desk, arms folded, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. 'You're sitting in my seat.'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Sorry.' He didn't even have the energy to throw a good comeback at him, or even simply annoy him. He yawned, got up, and moved.

Malfoy looked slightly unnerved for some reason, but he sat down anyway. He yelped, leaping up out of his seat, and picked up a sharp quill from his seat. 'Potter!'

'_What_?' Harry replied, annoyed. Here he was, just trying to get some before-class sleep, and Malfoy had to keep annoying him. And Harry hadn't even _done_ anything to him yet!

Malfoy glared at him. 'Is this yours?' he asked, showing him the offending quill. Harry peered at it.

'No.'

Malfoy glared even harder. 'There's no use trying to deny it, Potter. You're acting all _sleepy_ and _confused_ and you _deliberately_ sat down in _my_ seat, and planted a _quill_ there, and now you're _lying_ about it! Admit it, Potter, you're out to get me!' he finished triumphantly.

Harry stared, now completely awake. 'You might want to go easy on the italics there, Malfoy.' Malfoy looked quite confused at that. Taking no heed of this, Harry continued, 'Second of all, _I'm_ not out to get you, the _government_ is. It's a conspiracy, don't you understand? Repeat after me, 'It's a conspiracy!' And shout it for better effect.' Harry paused.

Malfoy looked even more confused at this, so Harry shrugged and kept talking. 'Also, you're way too paranoid for your own good. Well,' Harry said thoughtfully, 'maybe not _too_ paranoid for your own good. It is good to be careful. Anyway, you're just way too paranoid. That isn't my quill. Maybe it has a name on it, you should check,' Harry suggested, before attempting to fall back asleep again.

A few short seconds of blissful silence in which Harry almost fell asleep, before…

'It's got _your_ name on it, Potter!'

'What?' Harry jerked up, staring at the quill. 'It has not!'

'It has! Here, look!' Malfoy said confidently, thrusting the quill at him. Harry took it.

There, written plainly in black marker, were the words 'Harry Potter'.

'_What_?' Harry cried in disbelief, staring at the quill in shock and unaware of the fact that he had gotten up. 'That's not right! That's not my handwriting, and I don't even write my name on my quills!' He briefly wondered why one would go around doing so anyway, because in his opinion, which was very important, at least to him, it would be quite a hassle to go through all of one's quills and write their name on the thin stem (or whatever it was called) on each one.

'You do too!' Malfoy crowed. 'Ha, I've proved it! And you're going to suffer the consequences, Potter!'

'I don't!' Harry protested. 'Here, look at them,' he added, digging through his bag. 'Look!'

Malfoy snorted. 'Right, Potter. Like I'm going to believe you.'

'_This is the only quill with my name on it_!' Harry yelled, waving the quill-with-his-name-written-on-it-but-not-in-his-handwriting in Malfoy's face. 'All the rest of my quills are unmarked!'

'You could have covered them with a charm!' Malfoy yelled back.

'I don't know any!' Harry was aware they were making quite a bit of noise, but he was more concerned with defending himself in this overdramatic argument.

'How do I know you don't know any!' Malfoy shouted.

'You'll just have to take my word for it then!' Harry said, and sat back down in his seat and took out his books, determined to ignore Malfoy.

Malfoy, however, was not intending to be ignored.

'You're guilty of this, Potter!' he screamed. 'I'll get you back for this – '

'What is going on here?'

Everyone turned to look at the person standing in the doorway, who just so happened to be Professor McGonagall.

'Mr Malfoy, why are you standing?' the professor said sternly, frowning.

'It was Potter, Professor,' Malfoy protested weakly. 'He put a quill on my seat…'

McGonagall held up a hand. 'Well, you can tell me about it after class, Mr Malfoy. Now, if you would kindly seat yourself, we can begin…'

Malfoy reluctantly sat down, grumbling to himself and shooting Harry dark looks as he did so. Harry did his best to steadfastly keep ignoring him.

* * *

'Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, please remain after class,' said McGonagall after she dismissed the rest of the class. 

After the others had gone, Harry and Malfoy made their way up to Professor McGonagall's desk, Malfoy still shooting Harry dark looks and Harry now returning them tenfold. Or at least trying to.

'Now, Mr Malfoy,' said Professor McGonagall, finishing her previous task, which was pretending to organise her papers so that she didn't look like she had nothing to do, even if it was only for the short time it took for the two to make their way up to her desk (and Harry decided that maybe movies did have a somewhat more accurate grasp on reality than he had previously thought, as he had noticed that organising their papers was what teachers were always doing when students in trouble were walking up to their desks), 'what was it you were complaining about at the beginning of class?'

Malfoy promptly rushed into an explanation. 'Potter put a quill on my seat, Professor, and he made sure – '

Harry interrupted. 'I did _not_ put a quill on your seat! Professor, he's – '

'Mr Potter, please let Mr Malfoy tell me his side of the story first,' said Professor McGonagall, adjusting her glasses and gazing sternly at Harry. Harry clamped his mouth shut and settled for glaring darkly at Malfoy, promising a slow and painful death.

It didn't seem to work, because Malfoy ploughed on. 'And he made sure he was sitting in my seat first before class so he could put it there without looking suspicious! And then he lied about it when I confronted him about the quill, Professor, and look, it's even got his name on it!' Malfoy said, shooting Harry a triumphant look and giving the professor the offending quill.

McGonagall took it from him and peered at it through her glasses. 'Yes. You are finished, Mr Malfoy?'

'Yes,' said Malfoy, shooting Harry another look that said plainly he was certain he was going to be victorious in this. And, Harry thought with a sinking feeling, he had to agree with him. It didn't look too good for Harry.

Harry gulped and started his tale anyway. 'Professor, I don't know who it was who put the quill on Malfoy's seat, but I'm sure it wasn't me, I was half-asleep, Professor, I could hardly even walk here from the Great Hall, and I don't even write my name on my quills!'

'You were faking!' Malfoy accused.

'Mr Malfoy! Please do not interrupt.' Professor McGonagall glared at him. Malfoy fell into a sulk.

'I have to say, Mr Potter, it does not look too good for you,' said the professor, glancing down at the quill Malfoy had given her. 'This quill does indeed have your name on it.'

'I don't write my name on my quills, Professor, look!' Harry repeated, taking out his quills again.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Potter, but the evidence seems to be pointing more towards you at the moment. I'm afraid I shall have to assign you a detention for deliberately causing harm with intention.'

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. Great, another detention. He was sure Malfoy was inwardly whooping beside him.

'Yes, Professor,' said Harry in a defeated voice.

McGonagall checked her schedule. 'I'm busy all this week, Potter, so I shall have to assign you a detention with someone else. I will inform you of the details by owl. You are both dismissed.'

* * *

Harry resisted slamming the door on his way out – he was already in enough trouble, who knows how many points that would have cost, or maybe even another detention – but he did close it sharply, and stormed off feeling slightly proud of himself…though for what, he didn't exactly know. 

Surprisingly, Malfoy didn't stop to taunt him some more or make fun of him or anything. He just walked off – probably with a smug smirk on his face, the stupid twat, Harry thought bitterly – possibly back to the common room, or to the next class early.

Harry sighed. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid McGonagall. Stupid detention. _I hate everything,_ Harry thought morosely as he trudged slowly to his next class, which was Herbology.

Herbology was rather uneventful. Nothing unusual or even remotely exciting happened; no accidents, no deliberate damage, no clever ruses to get Professor Sprout not to assign any homework (she didn't anyway)…nothing.

And thus, Harry exited the greenhouses feeling nothing but boredom and the need to take a shower. And it is on this rather mundane note that this chapter ends.

* * *

(A/N: Another short chapter, isn't it? I just felt like uploading another one before school really starts. I'm panicking right now, you know. It's normal. It might pass eventually. 

Thinking back, I think maybe forty-seven (or however many it was) pieces of toast might be a little excessive. I only had six pieces of bacon and six hash browns, after all… :D

Also, I had lots more things to say, but I've forgotten them all now. And I end this author's note with a plea for reviews – please, it'll make me feel better if I come home from school and turn on the computer to find more reviews. Trust me, they make any author feel loved. :D)

Review responses!

**Serpent of Light:** Okay, so the first thing I did when I opened up the email from the Review Alert system was 'Omg. Woah.' And I did actually say 'oh em gee', just to let you know. Because that was one heck of a long review.

Trust me, you will never see an author's note yaying about good grades…really. Yes, I do think Ron would do that. House prejudices and all that, yeah. What does (g) mean by the way? I've been seeing that everywhere and I can't figure it out…(stabs) DIE DIE DIE. (cough) Anyway.

I suppose…I do have something else in mind for that scene. But that would mean I have to rewrite future chapters after that too, which is…I just don't care all that much. Maybe I will revise this someday. I know what you mean about the grammar; mine is completely horrible. Especially with sentence fragments, but they sound good, so screw Microsoft Word's grammar checker.

I am SO the Queen of Bad Memory. (dances) Muahahahahahaha. Also of Horrible Dancing, maybe. And some other stuff…yeah. Same with the details of HP. Though it's just mostly HP. Like for example, when is Ginny Weasley's birthday? ;)

Random note: I saw Phantom of the Opera (the movie) a long time ago! It was SO FREAKING LOUD! And also quite good. I've never seen a play before; I think I might get distracted wondering what happens if someone messes up.

I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the (insert longer string of adjectives here) pink bunny. Some people don't seem to like it.

Harry's love of toast…that was just another random thing when I was typing it, but yeah, I can sort of see how something might happen…that'd be kind of interesting, really. Hmm. (thoughtful look to disguise the actual thought of 'I'm hungry.')

There's no such thing as 'far too many suggestions'. Unless, of course, it is 'far too many suggestions'. You don't count with that though, because…you just don't. Because you're review my stuff, I guess is why.

You have a fast metabolism you DIE. Because I don't. (sniff) OMGDIE. And bacon is good. If it's done right, anyway. Otherwise it's just not good.

Never had Chinese take-out either…I don't really need it, since I have it at home like every night. Chinese food, I mean.

Loved the review, and can't wait to see another one! (Really, I did)

P.S. Thanks…nothing you say will convince me, though. I still think I suck. Meh. Rocking socks are cool, but kind of freaky. You know? (imagines) Yeah. I wonder how they'd play the guitar or anything. I've heard of Wayne's World, never watched it, don't even know what it is. Somehow, I think of 'Where's Wally?' when I see that.

I'm going to use the last suggestion. Something about drugs…(wanders off looking thoughtful for real this time)

**High Serpent King:** Yep, a bunny. Yes, a giant bunny. Yeah, it's a giant pink bunny. Nice capitalisation, by the way. :) I really don't think it's new. The order of the really long string of adjectives, maybe, but not the actual bunny thing…

Yeah, I can see how you would prefer the dog. The thing is, I still can't decide, because the votes (all TWO of them!) are tied. The chapters? The length might have something to do with the fact that I have no muse. (shrug) This one was short too, anyway.

**ShadowJamesPotter:** Thanks! Can't imagine how I, of all people, would inspire someone, but…well. Yeah. Can't do anything about the 'write more soon' thing, though. ;) I'll try. Sort of. :D


	10. There Should Be Quidditch, etc

**Chapter Ten – There Should Be Quidditch in This Chapter**

(A/N: I'm depressed. This has turned into another crack!fic. When I didn't want it to. My new fic looks like it might go on that path, too. I just can't keep away from humour, can I? I REALLY WANT TO WRITE A NON CRACK!FIC FIC.

In other news, would you believe I created a hopefully canon-accurate colour-coded timetable for Harry in this fic?)

* * *

_**Last time...**_

_And thus, Harry exited the greenhouses feeling nothing but boredom and the need to take a shower. And it is on this rather mundane note that this chapter ends._

_

* * *

_Lunchtime. Time to prove himself to Marcus Flint.

But first, lunch.

It was really a pity there was no toast at lunch, Harry mused as he sat down in the Great Hall. Lunch would be so much better if there was toast. Dinner, too, as a matter of fact. Harry speared a sausage and munched on it thoughtfully.

He was thinking about writing an official letter of complaint to the Headmaster about toast at meals other than breakfast when an owl swooped down in front of him. It wasn't Hedwig.

Harry untied the letter from the owl's leg curiously and it promptly flew away. It wasn't expecting a reply, then. He slit it open and read:

_Your detention will take place at one o'clock today. Professor Flitwick will be supervising your detention in his office.  
Prof. M. McGonagall_

Harry blinked. Wow, McGonagall worked fast. He looked at his watch.

_12:46_, it read. Plenty of time. Harry turned back to his lunch.

* * *

Harry was slightly nervous about his detention. He'd had detentions before, of course, because he always seemed to get into so much trouble in primary school, but this was a Hogwarts detention, a place with magic, a place that still used _quills and parchment_, a place that seemed really, really old, and Harry had no idea if he was going to be tortured on the rack or some other medieval thing. Even if it was only a detention. 

Harry, chewing another sausage, casually glanced at his watch.

_12:57_, it read, immediately blinking to _12:58_. Harry jumped. He was going to be late! Professor Flitwick's office was all the way up on the sixth floor.

He leapt out of his seat and _ran_.

* * *

Harry arrived, panting, three minutes later, at the door of Professor Flitwick's office. Checking his watch again, he realised he was one minute late and hoped that either Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind or that Hogwarts wasn't as medieval a place as he thought. 

He knocked on the door and was greeted with a cheerful, 'Please come in!' He pushed the door open and poked his head inside first, because that's what people in movies always do.

'Ah, hello, Mr Potter. Here for your detention?' Professor Flitwick chirped.

Harry nodded. 'Yes, Professor Flitwick.' He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and surreptitiously glancing around Professor Flitwick's office.

Hmm. Nothing that looked too harmful. A desk. A chair. Some paperwork on the desk. A candlestick and holder. Quills. Ink. Just the necessities, really.

Except…was that a 'Senior Marksman' trophy on the top shelf?

'Well, Mr Potter!' Professor Flitwick's voice abruptly drew Harry away from his paranoid thoughts. 'I hope you realise the seriousness of what you did.'

'…But I really didn't do it, sir.'

'Now now Mr Potter, there's no need to tell falsehoods,' Professor Flitwick said, gazing at Harry sternly. 'Really! It's one thing to deliberately attempt harm on another student, but to lie about it as well?'

Harry waited for the inevitable 'I expected better of you, Mr Potter' that always came with that sort of speech. It always happened in movies.

Professor Flitwick conjured a chair, levitating it towards his desk. 'You may work here, Mr Potter. Your detention will be to write lines. You are to write one hundred times, _I will never again try to harm another student on purpose._'

Harry was tempted to say, 'I was taught that honesty is the best policy, Professor,' but he held his tongue, figuring it would get him into more trouble. Technically, it hadn't really been _taught_ to him anyway; he'd learned it from, again, movies. From when the Dursleys would go out. Mrs Figg used to let him watch movies sometimes. They were usually weepy romances, as per Mrs Figg's preference, but Harry tried to ignore the…er…_kissy scenes_ (good thing they were usually just at the end) and focus on handing Mrs Figg tissues.

Instead, he just said, 'Yes, sir,' and sat down in the conjured chair, hoping it wouldn't suddenly disappear for some reason.

'Do you have parchment and a quill?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry replied, got those out, and ink, and set to work. Professor Flitwick sat down across from him and started marking essays.

There was no sound in the office except the scratching of quills.

* * *

'Mr Potter…Mr Potter! Wake up, Mr Potter!' 

Harry muttered something and turned his head the other way, waving irritably at the source of the noise.

'_Mr Potter_!'

Harry's eyes snapped open and he jumped, startled.

'Thank you, Mr Potter. It's nice to see you've finally consented to join us.' Though the words could have been sarcastic and harsh, there was an undertone of amusement.

Harry's eyes went wide as he realised where he was and jumped again. 'I'm sorry, Professor Flitwick!' he exclaimed, looking to where Professor Flitwick was standing in front of him (on the table). 'I didn't mean to fall asleep – it's just that…I didn't get much sleep last night. It won't happen again, sir.'

Instead of berating him as a not-so-nice professor would have, Professor Flitwick said sympathetically, 'Couldn't get to sleep? Homesickness, was it? I know how it feels,' and patted Harry on the back.

Harry blinked. 'Er…yes, Professor Flitwick.' Feeling the need to elaborate to make it look more authentic, he added, 'I know it's stupid, but…'

'Not to worry, Mr Potter!' said Professor Flitwick cheerfully. 'I see you've almost finished your lines – we'll stop here, then.' Harry looked down at his lines. He was up to number sixty-seven, which was hardly 'almost finished', but he wasn't going to complain.

'Thank you, Professor Flitwick,' he said, getting up and trying to stretch discreetly.

Professor Flitwick smiled at him. 'Now, I believe it is almost the end of lunchtime – you'd better get your things for your next class, Mr Potter!'

'Oh, I have my things, sir. I have double Charms.'

'Oh,' said Professor Flitwick, blinking. 'Well, you can wait in the classroom then, Mr Potter.'

'Yes, Professor,' said Harry, walking out the door. 'Thank you, Professor Flitwick,' he said again, before he closed it.

* * *

Sitting at his usual desk in the Charms classroom, Harry felt wide awake. Perhaps it was because he'd just slept for a bit (in detention!), but he felt like he could take on anything right then. Extra homework from McGonagall? Okay! Triple Potions with Snape? Bring it on! Voldemort, the evil man who had killed his parents and a lot of other people without even pausing to think about the lives he was ending? That could probably wait for another time; Harry could be patient when he felt like it… 

He'd much rather go fly on a broom again, though…that had been fun, in the first flying lesson, except for the part where he'd earned himself a detention with Snape.

Yes, flying on brooms was fun…and this sport, 'Quidditch', played on brooms…Harry didn't know how it worked, but if it was on brooms, it would probably be pretty fun!

Quidditch…hey, Hogwarts had Quidditch teams. Maybe he should try out for the Slytherin team.

Wait, first-years couldn't get on Quidditch teams. Harry saddened slightly at this.

Wait, he _was_ on the Quidditch team. Harry brightened at this. Great! He could play Quidditch!

…Well, after someone explained the rules to him. Perhaps the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team would. Who was it again? Harry had met him before, he knew. Oh yes, Marcus Flint. A rather nice person, if a bit lacking in personal hygiene.

Harry wondered when he could get Marcus Flint to explain the rules of Quidditch to him.

Wait, hadn't he scheduled something with him for just that reason? Or was that to test his flying skills?

Well, either way, Harry knew he'd scheduled a meeting with Marcus Flint for something about Quidditch. He wondered when it would be. Harry thought hard.

Hmm. Harry had only met him just that morning…lunchtime, did he say? Yes, lunchtime…Harry checked the clock on the wall.

It was 1:28…when did lunchtime end again? Oh yes, 1:30. Yes, that was right, there were already students in his Charms class trickling in…

So…he'd scheduled a lunchtime meeting with Marcus Flint about the Quidditch team, but he'd had to miss it because of his detention.

Oh…hang on.

Well, that wasn't good.

Sensing a sudden 'I'm here, bow down to mighty me' aura from the door, Harry looked up. Malfoy was standing there, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. He was smirking.

Malfoy walked over to him.

'I didn't do the quill thing,' Harry said, rather tired of this.

Malfoy looked annoyed. 'I wasn't going to say anything about that, Potter. I've got my revenge. I just wanted to give you a message. Immediately suspect the worst of me, why don't you.'

'Okay,' Harry agreed. 'I will, thanks.'

Malfoy looked even more annoyed. 'Shut up, Potter. Flint asked me to tell you that because you didn't show up, he had to spend half an hour waiting on the Quidditch pitch for you. I don't know _what_ he was doing waiting for you, but I won't bother myself with stupid details. He said to tell you that he'll kill you first chance he gets. Watch your back, Potter.'

With that, Malfoy smiled/smirked pleasantly and made his way to his seat.

Harry just sat there in shock.

Well, that wasn't good, then.

'Good afternoon, class!' Professor Flitwick chirped.

* * *

(A/N: Harry's so screwed. (snickers) 

Review, plzkthx. :P

And you know? This new review reply system sucks. I can't remember which reviews I've replied to and which ones I haven't.)


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